Memoirs of a Brainless Brute
by Draconic Caduceus
Summary: My Mother was a wonderful person. A bit gruff, but she offered help to anyone who needed it. Faction and race meant nothing to her. But she was always misunderstood. No one really knew that she only wanted to help. They only saw her as a brainless brute.
1. Narzenim's Exploration

**While IMing my friend, she asked me about my older stories, and so I thought I'd post some here. They're currently under reconstruction, though. :)**

**Note: I do not own Transformers, only Dragon and (a majority of) her family.**

-

Head bowed, I walked through the hallways; a ghost of my former self as Jazz had so eloquently put it. I merely flipped him off and continued my wandering way.

A month had passed since… I really didn't want to think of it now; the wounds were still far too raw. I found myself stroking the soft scar on my wrist thoughtfully. I grimaced when I caught myself and looked down at it before moving on.

It was very hard not to think of her; I often found myself expecting to see her turn around the corner and smile when she saw me, patting me gently on the head or shoulder before moving on to her original destination.

I clenched my fists, reveling slightly in the pain from my fingernails digging into my scarred palms. I shut my eyes tightly and willed it with all my might to be a dream; that Mo – no, the Captain of the ship's (it felt better to feel that she wasn't so close to me that she was an anonymous face in the crowd of Autobots) – death had never happened and this was all a dream.

I let out a great, gusty sigh and stopped. Looking up, I frowned and shook my head. My feet had taken me to her quarters; I saw her name and title engraved high above my head in dark red, her favorite color.

That was something I didn't know the reason of, one thing of many. Why did she have me around? Did she really care about me? Why did she like dark red as opposed to any other of the colors on her slender body? Who were her creators and how did they die? Why was she so loathe of speaking much of her past?

The questions had piled up for the length of time I had lived with her, and now…

Now she was dead and I couldn't ask her. I hesitated, my palm hovering over the keypad on the doorframe. A hideous shrieking echoed from the hallway to my right and I turned to find Firebird walking, his majestic wings and feathers dragging desolately behind him. His usually-vibrant colors were dull, and it was obvious even from here that he hadn't preened his feathers recently.

The source of the shrieking was his feathers scraping on the floor of the ship. Head bowed, he made his slow way toward me, stopping a few massive doors down and looking up. His orangey optics were dimmer than usual, holding a haunted look that I was aware that I also had. He made an odd sound, like a half-sob half-sigh and a great shiver shook his frame.

I took my hand from the keypad and walked over, wrapping my arms around his great chest and pressing my face against the unusually rough feathers. Awkwardly – and with much hideous screeching – he drew his wings around me to return the hug.

He bent his great neck and stroked my cheek with his smooth beak before turning around and moving on. We didn't need words; we both knew that the other really needed a hug, but not from each other. And that the person we really needed a hug from was gone forever.

With a sigh, I turned and walked back to the keypad. My hand shook slightly as I keyed in the password – one that I knew by heart as well as my own – and watched grimly as the doors hissed open, revealing the dark room.

She was never one of those femmes that cared about material possessions; her room was neat, tidy, and simple with a desk, small computer, chair (obviously well-worn judging by the claw-marks on it), recharge berth, and set of shelves. The room was plunged into darkness when the doors hissed shut. Automatically, I groped for the light-switch and pressed it, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the unusually bright lights.

I remembered then; she had a slight vision problem and had to work her optics overtime to function as well as they should in regular lighting; here she could let them relax while she did as well.

On every wall, even the ceiling, were enormous murals. She used them like picture frames, painting images from her past that brought her joy or were memorable to her. I found one of me and her and smiled, running my hands over the smooth lacquer.

There wasn't much to explore on the ground; aside from the shelves which covered half of a wall from top to bottom and was filled with various paints, lacquers, brushes, and the tiny statuettes she was fond of making, there was nothing.

I climbed uneasily on the desk, noting the thin coating of dust; otherwise it was like she was still here, still alive and walking the long hallways and grumbling about 'the stupid rookies' she was fond of mentoring.

In the middle of the desk was the computer, and on either end were piles of disks and files. On the right of the keyboard was a pile of reports she hadn't finished looking over at the time of her death. To the left was a small, half-finished sketch; she was fond of working and drawing at once. On the left side of the desk was a bin as tall as my waist filled with data cubes. I pulled one out and looked at the small label; it read the title of a song and its artist.

I grimaced and put it back; she was very fond of listening to music while she worked as well, and tended to listen to slow or depressing music, claiming that it made her feel better. I wandered to the other side and found data plugs. Curious, I picked up one of the small data pads that lay next to the computer screen and plugged it in.

I smiled slightly as I read her neat handwriting. I looked at the neat rows of data plugs; each were numbered with Cybertronian characters painted in white, and I was glad that she had taught me how to read at least those.

I found my messenger bag which she had been fixing before she died (thankfully she finished) and put them in.

The captain was a…rather quiet femme, who spoke often but gruffly, prone to insulting others in her rough but caring manner. Not many would remember her unless there was something to remind them of her.

The famed mural she did in the Memorial Room of the ship helped, as did the small murals she did in the rooms from time to time. The ship's computer, first mate, new captain, and communication's officer as well as her "pack" would always remember her, of course, but… not everyone would. There was a limit to their memory capacity, and soon the accounts of her life would be grossly exaggerated.

I climbed down the desk and walked to my room where I organized the data plugs on my desk in numerical order and grabbed an empty data pad, plug, and stylus. I sat myself down and read her journal in one hand and wrote her shortened account with the other.


	2. Twins Moon and Sun

**For those who read the previous version (Dragon's Story: Russet), you will notice that a lot of things have changed. Their names, demeanors, appearances, reactions, and interactions change a whole lot. **

**Have fun!**

* * *

He gave a smug sort of smile, watching his two pets as they did their familiar dance. Twist, lunge, twirl, kick, each move was perfectly executed, and their dark armor flashed dully in the lights above them. The dance ended in spilled fluids and broken parts, and he wrinkled his nose as his sensors picked up the bitter odor of the death that now hung in the air.

"Dispose of that," he ordered, flapping his hand at the mangled remains of the rival gang-boss. "When you're finished, go stand guard, or something. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night."

The two identical femmes inclined their head, optics blank and devoid of any emotion. In familiar unison, they subspaced their weapons and began to gather the shredded remains littering the floor. The oldest of the twins looked up, russet optics flat as she regarded the servant before her. The signs of her transformation mode littered her lithe body, giving her a thicker, more menacing look. Her gray-gold and dark gray armor gave her distinct shadows along her body, cloaking her in mystery.

The servant shook so hard that his armor began to rattle as the younger, more dangerous twin looked up. Her eyes were a mellow gold color like amber crystal, sparkled almost merrily, despite the flat, dangerous glint to them. Her armor was dark russet and also dark gray that matched her sister's. With her darker armor, she looked as dark as she was, accented like her sister by the evidence of her transformation mode like bits of scattered confetti across her slightly thicker body.

"I-I-I…" the servant gulped as the hawk-like gazes intensified; everyone knew the sisters didn't like people who took forever to say what they needed to. That the servant was the Master's own personal mechservant and was off-limits didn't make any him feel any better. He took a steadying breath. "I-I b-brought-t y-you a…an…a-anti-grav p-pad." He shuttered his optics, cursing himself for stuttering.

When the twins' famed lance-blades didn't tear ruthlessly into his thin armor, he unshuttered one optic and peered at the twins who were regarding him. The younger one – the one everyone called Moon for her bright optics in her dark face – turned, a sharp motion that brought her head to face her sister's. Sun, the older of the two and called such due to her almost-cheerful demeanor, shrugged. "Thank you," they said, as ever in unison.

The mechservant gave a shaky smile and ran away, leaving the anti-grav pad behind for their use. Sun watched him scurry away before turning a disapproving optic on her sister who had begun loading the scraps of metal on the relatively large pad.

_Did you _really_ have to do that?_ She asked reproachfully over their link, and Moon gave her a _look_.

_I did what was asked of me._ Moon replied, and Sun rolled her optics. Her sister _always_ said that.

With their combined efforts, the anti-grav pad was loaded and the two walked out of the fortress and into the cool night air of Cybertron. As they made their way to the junkyard a few streets over to dump the body, they kept a sharp watch for anyone or anything that would see or sense their approach.

There was a soft _shh_ as a camera lens closed, and the twins were on alert, crouching down. The anti-grav pad hummed and slipped silently to the ground with its grisly burden as the twins disappeared in a smooth, shimmering undulation of light. Moving silently, they crept aside as the cameramech, a relatively young waif crept out of his hiding place.

_He's young._ Sun whispered, looking side-long at her sister. Moon looked vaguely sick, and Sun knew that she did too; they were both originally from the street, or at least, according to their boss, anyway. Had they both looked like that three years ago? Both shuddered at the thought, looking at each other. They didn't want to hurt the boy, but what other choice did they have?

_I don't want to hurt him…Hurting those guys_, Moon jerked her head at the shreds on the pad. _Wasn't so bad. I mean, they did bad stuff, you could tell jus' by looking at them. But him…he's so young._ Moon shuttered her optics, sounding as if she wanted to cry.

Sun bit her lip gently, and looked at her sister. _We don't _have_ to do anything…I mean, Chief didn't say nothing._ She pointed out as they watched the tiny mech take pictures of the remains on the anti grav pad.

Moon shook her head. _No, let's not do anything._ She agreed. _Let's jus' pray that he takes the pictures to the right person._

Her sister nodded. _Aye. Let's pray real hard._

-

The little mech left after a few more pictures, and the sisters breathed a sigh of relief, shimmering back into the visible plane and continuing their way. After disposing of the bodies in the junkyard, they washed the pad down and began their trek back.

They heard the small mech before they saw him, but now that their pad was empty it didn't matter if they were seen. It was different mech, a rusty sort of red that was a few shades lighter than Moon's. His grey face lit up when he saw them, and made a bee-line straight for them. The people in the street, those who they saw, gave collective gasps even as they ducked out of view.

Moon and Sun stopped as the mech drew near, narrowing their eyes warily. He was obviously new to the slums, but if they must, they'd set him straight. Everyone knew that and yet dreaded it.

"Hey, ladies," he greeted them in a slow country drawl as they regarded him.

Moon and Sun traded brief glances. "Evening," They murmured in unison, eyeing him warily. He blinked in surprise at that, taking a reflexive step back as the twins treated themselves to identical, fanged grins. "How may we help you?" Their voices carried no other hint save for a low, feral growl threaded through the words.

To his credit, he recovered quickly and offered them a sheepish smile. "Sorry t' bother ya, bu' Ah seemed ta 'ave lost m' way."

Moon and Sun traded amused glances. "Where are you heading to?" Sun asked.

"Perhaps we can direct you on your way." Moon suggested, their predatory grins widening.

"Ironhide!" three patrol officers outfitted in riot armor ran over, relief flooding their optics as they spotted the rust-red mech. They skidded to a stop as they saw Moon and Sun, hands reflexively going to their weapons.

"Good evening, officers." The twins purred, grins still in face. "I suppose you've found your way, little one." They murmured to the small mech – Ironhide, as he was apparently called.

"What're you dogs doin' out here without yer master?" the first officer sneered, hand tightening on his weapon. "Doin' his dirty work?"

"Why no," Sun said, sounding vaguely offended.

"Us femmes, doin' _work_?" Moon continued, laughing inwardly as the officers' optics jerked from face to face, unable to focus on both at once. Not to mention each time they spoke individually, the officers' train of thought was thrown off.

"Perish the thought," they scoffed in unison this time.

"It wouldn't surprise us," another officer snarled. "What with you killing all them pit bosses fer yer master up there." He sneered, jerking his chin toward the tall castle-like structure on the hill. He spat on the ground near Moon's claw, earning him a glare from the twins.

"Why would we do such a thing?" the twins purred with identical smirks. "Kill a mech? That's hard for tiny femmes like us." Inwardly, they laughed; they were a good head taller than the officers in front of them. "We're so delicate," the cooed, optics feigning innocence. "We wouldn't stand a chance against another mech, much less a pit boss."

"We're just on our way home," Sun whined, jutting her lower lip out in a mocking pout.

"Our boss won't be happy if we waste any more time," Moon finished. _Too. Easy._

Sun scoffed over her comm. Much_ easier getting a rise out of them than…_ she left it unsaid, and Moon knew what she was talking about: the tiny little mech-child taking pictures of their kill.

"Perhaps he'd be more inclined to forgive you if we escorted you home." The third officer suggested. "After all, such 'delicate femmes' like you could get in trouble in these parts."

_Master'll like _that. Moon murmured to her sister. _Even if he told us he was finished with us; he _does_ like messing with the police._

_True, true. Shall we agree, then?_

_Yes. Let's._ Moon and Sun gave twin smirks. "We'd be honored to have the company of such…esteemed officers of law enforcement." They were treated as dumb, mindless brutes, but they were trained by their boss (whose name they didn't quite know) how to get rises from the law enforcement officers.

With that, they walked off, pulling the anti-grav pad behind them. They didn't wait to see if they followed, and their armor was thick enough on their backs that if they were shot from behind, it'd only sting. Then the loud _clunk_s of the officers behind them sounded, and they smirked to themselves. Piece of cake.

-

It was only a few minutes before they reached the castle-like mansion, and the officers dutifully followed them into the foyer. "Wait here, we'll fetch the master."

"No need." It was a practiced routine, and Moon handed the handle of the anti-grav pad to a nearby servant as they took a step to the side. Their boss descended down the stairs, groomed and polished "like a civilized person," as he'd always say. His smirk was firmly in place in his dark gray face as he stopped at the base of the stairs. "I was wondering who my twins were bringing home."

"Law enforcement officers, Master." They purred in unison. "They wished to speak with you."

A brow rose elegantly. "Is that so? Well, then. Who am I to ignore their wishes? Fetch the servants like good little girls, and set up the Red Room for guests."

Both inclined their head. "Yes, Master." They turned and danced away.

_He _never_ uses the Red Room,_ Moon murmured, biting her lower lip.

_I doubt he'd kill them,_ Sun pointed out. _After all, they're law enforcement officers on duty. He likes the Red Room, and you _know_ he wouldn't have us kill anyone in a place he likes._

_True._ Moon conceded as they trotted into the kitchen.

-

Within a few hours, the officers left, stewing and steaming in anger. Ironhide sought out the twins as he was led out. "Hey," he said quietly, and the twin pairs of optics flashed to him. "Ah jus' wanned t' say thanks fer helpin' me."

The twins paused, turning their heads to regard him. "We hardly did anything," they pointed out. "All we did was stand and talk."

"Bu' still, thanks." He pressed, giving them a kind smile, his blue optics glowing with sincerity. "Mah creators allays taugh' me t' be polite," he added sheepishly.

Moon and Sun traded amused glances before cracking slight smiles. "You're welcome," they murmured, snapping back to their rigid stances as they heard the rest of the officers come around the corner. "This way," they led the way stiffly down the halls and to the main door, opening the leaves and standing in the doorway. "Sleep well, officers." They murmured, optics glowing as the doors closed behind them. They turned and walked up to their room, claws clicking on the polished floor.

Both twins were silent, not knowing what to say. No one had ever thanked them before, and…well, it was unlikely that the young mech Ironhide would do so again. They were on the wrong sides of the law, after all. He was an officer; they were…they were thugs, hired killers for a ruthless pit boss. One day, if they opened up to him, he'd have to arrest him. Likewise, if they were given the order, they'd have to kill him. It had happened before.

Sun looked at Moon in the safety of their quarters. _I wouldn't want to kill him,_ she whispered, offlining her optics in horror. _He's like the little mech we saw earlier. So young…_

Moon placed a claw on her sister's shoulder. _It's out of our claws, Moon._ She pointed out, though her voice didn't sound happy either. _I hope he lays low. No, I _pray_ he does. _

Her sister shook her head. _We're getting soft, aren't we?_

_Maybe we're just growing a conscience?_ Moon suggested, shrugging. _Let's get to sleep: these thoughts have the potential to keep us awake for _cycles_._

Sun grunted, curling up beside her sister. _Too true,_ she agreed, and both slipped off into their dark recharge cycle.

-

It was market day, and as morbid and strange as it was, the twins enjoyed it. They reveled in the feel of the lights ghosting along their armor, the feeling of freedom they got as they clicked through the streets. They were their boss's bodyguards, with Moon walking on his right and Sun on his left. The streets became very wide for them as they passed, passers-by pressing themselves against walls to avoid the glares and growls of the two Pit-Dragons guarding the pit-boss.

What sight to behold, they were. They stood only as tall as their boss's elbows, but with their needle-sharp fangs, large claws, and thick, barbed tail, no one dared mess with them. Not to mention the sacs of venom hidden in their jaws near the curved metal spurs lining their jaws.

They stopped in front of a large warehouse, and the twin Pit-Dragons transformed, following their master into the warehouse. "Load that," their boss sniffed, flapping his hand at the carts of high-grade energon – the illegal kind – piled up near a rather old-fashioned cart. It was a familiar routine: they would load their boss's wares into the cart, lash it down, and then one of them would be hitched to the wagon to pull it back to the mansion.

With a tired huff, they got to work loading the illegal booze into the back of the cart. They were covering the wagon when they heard someone approaching. Moon inspected the gears in the wagon when the cover jammed while Sun turned to look at the newcomer. It was the young mech Ironhide.

"Hey. Fancy seein' _you_ guys here."

The twins bridled instantly and motioned sharply for him to be quiet. He had his uniform and gear on, and it was obvious that he was a law enforcement rookie. "What are you doing here?" Sun hissed, clapping a clawed hand over his mouth, moving so that the bulk of the wagon hid them from view.

"Ah go' lost 'gain." Ironhide said in a sheepish whisper, wincing at the incredulous looks he was given.

"Are you _serious_?" Moon hissed, looking over her shoulder. "You _do_ know that if you're found here, you'll either be beaten to a messy pulp or you'll be killed, right?"

Ironhide's optics went wide and he shook his head. The twins traded glances. They didn't know why they were helping him, but they found themselves pressing a map into his hands. _Their_ map. "You keep this." Their optics flashed to the doorway before training on him. "Now go, before we have to do something bad to you."

Ironhide smiled. "Thanks. Again."

The twins jerked their heads toward the doors to the rest of the warehouse and shoved the mech in the direction of the doors. "Get out. Quick – they're coming."

Ironhide raced out with a last wave, the last flash of rust-red disappearing around the corner as their boss drifted around the corner. "Let's get going." He sniffed, climbing into the wagon as Moon transformed. Sun hitched her to the wagon before transforming herself to walk beside her sister.

They were turning on to the main road toward their boss's mansion when a large squad of law enforcement officers approached them, and Moon stopped warily, eyeing them as their boss climbed out of the wagon.

_Wonder what they want?_ She asked, and Sun gave a minute shrug.

_Your guess is as good as mine._ Was her sister's reply.

"We'd like to have a word with you, Keel Haul." The officer in the lead called up companionably despite the wary hand on his rifle.

Their boss raised a brow, leaning against Moon's flank. "Oh? Why? Is something wrong, officers?"

They leveled their rifles at the three of them in the road. "You, Keel Haul, are under arrest by order of Sentinel Prime for possession of illegal high-grade energon, weapons, and other substances."

Moon looked at Sun looked as confused as she felt. _Under arrest?_

_Wonder what that means._ Both shrugged and Sun sat down; Moon didn't have that luxury due to the fact that Keel Haul was leaning heavily on her flank.

Keel Haul sniffed haughtily. "May I see the arrest warrant?" A data-pad was handed over, and Moon rumbled in obvious confusion. "Shut up," he snapped, hitting her side hard. Sun snarled on the other side, claws emerging from their sheaths and digging into the ground as Keel Haul read the data-pad.

The lead officer motioned to the others and they surrounded the wagon with a smaller group aiming weapons at Keel Haul and the twins. "Do you want to finish reading that at the brig, or do you want to finish it here?" The captain asked dryly.

Moon and Sun's boss looked up sharply, red optics taking a defensive twist. "Where is your proof?"

"Back at Headquarters, along with witnesses ready to testify against you." Another officer said rather cheerfully. "Now will you come with us, or shall we detain you and send your pets to the pound?" He was obviously pulled from another district, for all the law enforcement officers knew who the three of them were. The names of the dark twins were whispered in fear like dark goddesses who ruled over the district like thunderclouds.

Sun arched her neck, climbing to her feet. She snarled, baring her razor-sharp fangs dangerously. Her scythe-bladed tail sliced through the ties holding Moon to the wagon, freeing her sister. Keel Haul straightened, allowing Moon to shake herself free of her harness. There were heavy _thumps_ and _click_s as the officers moved to surround them completely.

Keel Haul turned to his pets. "Make yourselves useful," he ordered, flapping his hand dismissively at the squad of officers.

The twins traded glances before regarding the officers. To the left of the lead officer was a familiar rust-red rookie mech, looking confused, scared, and amazed all at once. The map was still in his hands, and Moon looked at Sun. Thoughts drifted along their bond and they nodded at each other, minds made up.

* * *

****

**I changed their names for a few reasons: **

**1) I don't like numbers. It was a good idea at the time (to me) for Keel Haul to give them numbers instead of names, but I realized that in a sense he'd be treating them as equals. He would be giving them "names," even if they're not exactly words.  
****2) Keel Haul had no liking for them, so it would make sense that he wouldn't call them anything save for his 'pets,' or 'slaves.' As mentioned above, it would also be like showing he cares for them by giving them a name.  
****3) They're named Moon and Sun because I couldn't really think of any better names to describe them with words that would be simple and used as nicknames. Sun is usually the more hot-headed one but also the one who is much more cheerful. She is more passionate and is usually the one noticed first. Moon is younger than Sun, but is the more level-headed one. She'd rather learn than fight, but of course she has no other choice. She _is_ rather violent, but it's only when she's not happy, as seen when they were getting rid of the bodies in the beginning of the chapter.**


	3. Second Chances

**Ugh. Tired. ((falls asleep))**

* * *

It was strange to be in the waiting room, arms and legs bound, but they held very still after a look at Ironhide who, as ever, were at their sides. Though the tiny rookie beside them was shaking in his armor, he raised his chin defiantly, and Moon and Sun traded glances.

"You don't have to be here," Moon murmured, nudging him with her elbow.

"We'd just get you in trouble, and you don't want to know what we do for a living." Sun finished kindly.

Ironhide's chin jutted out and he stood stoutly in front of them. "No. Yer not bad li' Keel Haul."

"Kid, you seriously need a lesson in the history of your district," one of the guards told him. "Those are the Dragon Twins, the worst mercenaries you would ever see. Word on the street is that they were kidnapped as sparklings and Keel Haul trained them for only one purpose: to kill."

"They'll likely be sent off-planet for their crimes. In three years, the slums have been buried in shredded, mangled bodies of the mechs and gangs they've killed." Another guard told Ironhide, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"That's why you should leave," Moon told him, giving him a stubborn glare. "You'll open your big mouth and get yourself deeper into trouble."

Ironhide glared back at them despite his shorter stature, not in the least intimidated by their twin stares. "No. Ya helped me, so Ah'm gonna help ye." He stomped like a stubborn, spoiled sparkling.

The first guard gave a derisive laugh. "You sure those monsters helped you?"

The rookie turned to him. "Ah go' lost, an' they 'elped m' find m' squad 'n' mentor 'gain."

Sun snorted. "Look, kid, all we did was stand there and talk to you. Your squad found _you_, not the other way around."

"Yeah, bu' ye di'n't kill m', did ye?" Ironhide huffed, glaring at them. "If ye was bad li' they're sayin', then ye woulda killed m' jus' fer bein' a rookie cop."

"What if we were going to?" Sun snapped, getting irritated. "You don't know what would've happened if your squad didn't come around that corner."

The guards traded incredulous glances but remained silent. Moon shook her head. "That's not enough to convince _anyone_ that we're not bad." She told him gently. "You're not even convincing them, and you're especially not convincing _us_."

"Well what 'bout tha' time in th' warehouse? Ya didn't need ta do tha' fer me." He argued back.

"Wait, wait, wait. _What_ time in the warehouse?" his mentor, a mech sitting in a chair nearby demanded, getting to his feet. "_What_ warehouse?"

"See what I mean?" Moon asked as he backed into her under the glare of his mentor. "You're only digging yourself into a hole."

"He got lost again," Sun explained, dark optics boring into the mech. "He found us loading crates in the warehouse where Keel Haul gets his illegal high-grade. We sent him on his way."

"Yer lying!" Ironhide hissed, earning a glare from Sun.

"No, that's just the abridged version." She sniffed. "I don't think it'd help your case to tell them that we told you to get lost before we had to kill or beat you up."

"Now I want to hear this," the smooth, cultured baritone voice cut through their argument, and the guards, twins, Ironhide, and angry mentor looked up at the large orange and yellow mech. "One would think that I would side on the twins' side and say they're guilty, but hearing the intensity in which young Ironhide here defends them, there must be at least a small spark of good in them to garner such loyalty."

"Unlikely," Sun scoffed defiantly.

The massive mech gave a deep, thrumming chuckle. "Come into my office. I'd like to hear the entire story, if you please."

-

By "the entire story," the mech – who the twins learned later was Sentinel Prime – meant the _entire_ story of their existence. From their earliest memories to the present, and sadly that wasn't much; they only remembered three years of their existence.

Sentinel Prime listened thoughtfully to their story, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach plating. When they were finished, he nodded to Ironhide to begin his version of the story, from the night when they first met. "Well," he said at last. "It seems we have quite the story here. Two abducted twins forced into the service of Keel Haul to kill at his order, yet possessing a conscience."

"But sir, they have no conscience," the first guard protested. "In case you've forgotten, sir, they've killed in the lower districts of Iacon for three years. _At least_ two thousand bodies were found."

"Very true," Sentinel Prime conceded, sitting up with a sigh. The Twins straightened: this was when they would be sentenced to death or imprisonment. "But though the bodies were found in mangled wrecks, you forget that they were placed neatly, almost reverently in their final resting places. They were gathered together, pieces put back together as best as possible, and though they weren't buried or cremated, they looked as if they were waiting for a proper burial."

That shut the guard up for a moment. "That doesn't change the fact that they killed."

The other guard frowned. "Based on the evidence provided, it would seem that they didn't know any better until just recently. Sparklings in the bodies of full-grown femmes, as it were." He pointed out. "They didn't realize that it was bad to kill."

Ironhide looked vaguely sick, and Moon turned her soft optics on him. "That is why we told you to stay outside. You _really_ don't want to know the extent of our crimes."

Sun coughed. "It wasn't _just_ two thousand. It was two thousand five hundred and eighty six. We kept track."

"I rest my case," Sentinel Prime murmured, leaning back in his chair once more. "Through those three years of working with Keel Haul, they found their conscience, and that, I am convinced, is what saved that young mech they were talking about, not to mention young Ironhide here." He nodded at Ironhide who was cowering against Moon's armor-plated belly.

Ironhide's mentor frowned at him, and Moon snarled at him, and even her sister was glaring at the mech. "This is certainly a learning experience for Ironhide, at least." He sniffed. "It _should_ teach him to make better choices in the future. Do you have a verdict, sir?"

The Prime nodded thoughtfully, blue eyes direct and yet at the same time, hazy with a far-off look. He stood and nodded. "I do. I, Sentinel Prime, current Prime of Cybertron, do voice my verdict. The twins before me have admitted freely that they have killed and taken precious lives."

_I don't know if I'd count them _precious. Sun muttered to Moon who shushed her, curious.

"After hearing their stories, and the testimony of the young mech Ironhide, I have reached a decision." Sentinel Prime continued, and the Twins stood straighter in anticipation. This was _it_. The price for their sins. "These two femmes before me may have committed the crime of murder, but I see now that they were raised as such, though that does not condone their behavior. It is my decision that they are to remain here at Headquarters and undergo therapy sessions and lessons."

"But sir-" the mentor sputtered, optics wide. "They're known _killers_."

"True, they are, but their original programming was overridden by the protocols and programming that Keel Haul installed in them against their will. None of this was done out of their own free will: they did it because it was all they knew." The Prime murmured, powerful voice booking no argument. He turned to the Twins. "Taking your lives on behalf of the Cybertronians you have killed would lower me down to Keel Haul's level."

Moon shook her head, but the Twins said nothing. _They wished for death, yet…maybe this time they'd get a chance to prove themselves_, the Prime thought to himself, rubbing his forearm. _Get them cleaned up, and show their true potential as themselves. Not killing machines._ He nodded, and that's exactly what he did.

-

_Five years later…_

"Sir? You asked for me?" Moon, now known as Russet, poked her head into Sentinel Prime's office.

The yellow and orange mech looked up and gave her a smile. "Ah, yes. Come in, come in." The Prime had given the twins new names as they began their rehabilitation – at their agreement, of course. He hadn't wanted them to feel as if they were still with Keel Haul. So, for lack of better names, he called Moon Russet and Sun Gold, due to their colors which brightened considerably after a good cleaning. However, they still wanted to keep their alternate modes as Pit-Dragons, and there Sentinel Prime didn't dare argue.

A moment later, Gold ducked into the room and stood beside her sister. "Sir?"

Sentinel Prime leaned back in his seat as he was fond of doing, peering up at them. "I'm sending both of you to the Academy," he said abruptly, and the Twins narrowed their optics at him. He knew them well enough to know that they were thinking rather than of angry.

"Why?" they asked, and he smiled at the familiar unison. They only did that when they were uncomfortable.

"We've taught you the basics, and now it's time to learn more." He pointed out. "It would be detrimental to your health to merely get private tutors for you; after all, you need to learn to socialize. It's all been arranged. You leave tomorrow at noon, and check in with Kup. He'll make sure you get to your dorms and can sign up for your classes."

Russet frowned. "You didn't choose our classes, sir?"

Sentinel Prime shook his head with a slight smile. "No. You have the basics, and can go into any field they offer; I made sure of that. It's your turn now; you get to choose. For once." He added with a wry smile. When they smiled in reply, he sat up and motioned to the three open boxes on his desk. "Now, what can you tell me about these?"

"They're illegal," Gold said immediately as Russet picked up a tiny round ball in the first box.

"Old-fashioned and crude, but they work well enough," she added. "They'd do a lot of damage: if one of them got in you fuel lines, it would travel along and either block the line or go to your pump and jam it there." She picked up a tiny gray glass ball from the second, shaking it and hearing a soft clicking emanating from the ball. "This one's filled with shrapnel."

Gold shook her head. "That's worse than the other one."

"Why?" Sentinel Prime asked, leaning forward.

"Like Russ' said, if those balls got in the lines, it could clog the line or the pump. Well these could do the same, or even shred the lines." Was the reply. She found a scrap of metal and with dull screeches, bent it into a crude sort of box, placing one of the glass balls in it. With her thumb, she pressed down and the ball shattered, spilling its load of thin scraps of shrapnel into the metal. "It bursts on impact," Gold explained as Russet gave a low rumble of irritation. "Sometimes it even bursts in the air, and if it travels fast enough, it could cause a lot of damage to the optics and facial armor."

Sentinel Prime gave a low chuckle. "Some of my men found boxes of these in an empty warehouse. Do you know anyone who would sell these?"

The twins traded glances, moving over to the map displayed behind the desk. A red dot appeared where the caches of weapons were found, and they inspected the area. "Here," Russet said at last, pointing with a clawed finger to a building a few blocks down from the warehouse. "The only way you'll get the right guy is if you're sneaky."

"His name is…" Gold made a frustrated noise, looking at Russet.

"Flicker, I think. We always called him Shield." The other twin said, shrugging.

Sentinel Prime smiled, clapping his massive hands. "Thanks. I'll get the task force together." He smiled. "Now, you two, go and say goodbye to your self-proclaimed brother and go pack your things."

The twins smiled and walked out of the office.

-

Russet bit her lip, casting a glance at Gold. Her sister entwined her clawed digits with hers, leaning companionably against Russet. They hugged Sentinel Prime with a slight smile. "We'll miss you, sir."

He chuckled and hugged them back. "I'll save a place for you here." He promised. "Just stay a few years at the Academy, and then I'll let you back in."

They all chuckled as Ironhide, now a full-fledged officer, looked like he was about to cry. Russ' chuckled and hugged him, patting his head with a clawed hand. "Ah, it's all right, 'Hide. We'll be back soon."

"Ah know, bu'…Ah'm gonna miss ya guys."

Gold chuckled, patting his back. "Come on, little bro, chin up. We'll visit once in a while. Promise." Ironhide was technically older than them – both chronologically and mentally – but he acted more like a youngling rather than an adolescent.

"Your shuttle leaves soon," one of the guards murmured, putting a hand on Ironhide's shoulder. "Let's not make them late, 'Hide."

The Twins nodded at him, and with one last glance at their sort-of family, they turned around and stepped up the ramp and into the shuttle.

* * *

**Yess, very different, no? Now, g'night y'all.**

**I hate Ironhide's accent. :(**

**~Kapuapunalei**


	4. What a First Day

Russet looked at her schedule once more, a more reflexive gesture than anything. By the fifth look, she had memorized everything displayed save for the map, but she couldn't help but be nervous at all the strange looks she was getting as she ambled down the hallway. The looks themselves weren't that bad, but it was the whispering that made her nervous.

Thankfully the students meandering up and down the halls were heading to class, no doubt to pass on the word of the strange new student, but at least they were leaving. Russet bit her lip, looking down at her map again. She felt awfully lonely without her sister, and missed the feeling of her beside her, but they had long since gotten over their compulsion to follow each other around.

A wave of loneliness swamped her and she paused, leaning against a smooth wall. The shuttle driver had dropped them off on the landing pad before lifting off again, having gotten a call from Sentinel Prime just before they landed. Kup had met them there, and had led them inside to choose their classes.

While they already had fighting experience, Gold wanted to take the warrior classes, and had signed up for them. Her classes were way on the other side of the complex, and she lived in the barracks with the other soldier-students. Russet, though, had wanted to learn the finer things – music, art, science, and math. She had opted for science or medicine, though thankfully the two classes were somewhat combined so until she chose for sure, she could meander along in that combined class.

So now she was in the science wing, looking for her class. Maps were _so_ not her strong point. The subtle sound caught her sharp audio receptors, and she paused. Odd, there were no fighting classrooms near here, so why did she hear…

Becoming invisible was like having a blanket tossed over her – she felt as if she stood out, even though she couldn't see her own hands. Russet glided along the halls, following the sound until she heard voices, too.

Long practice allowed her to identify four mechs by their voices and the sound of their systems. The thin, high whirring of laser cores and pulsing sparks allowed her to believe – correctly – that all four of them were feeling strong, intense feelings such as anger, fear, and pain. Though she could deduce due to the heavy smell of fear in the air as she neared the noises that at least two – probably three – of the four were afraid. She paused to unravel the scents. Two of them smelled angry, and three smelled of fear – one of the ones who were afraid was also angry. Then she sifted through the noises and voices.

She heard the hum of a standard stunner, and low, malicious laughter. The angry smell of one of the four was fading, drowned out by the sick glee he or she felt at the cries of pain. Russet snorted, olfactory slits flaring angrily as she stamped her clawed foot. This won't do!

She threw off her invisibility cloaking and turned the corner, grabbing the perpetrator by the neck and tossing him roughly aside. They were three mechs in front of her, two on the ground cowering while the third stood in front of them, bearing the brunt of their attacker's hits even as he shook in his red and white armor.

Russet's thick armor twitched as the jerk tried to shoot her with the stunner. "What are you doing?" she snarled, voice deep and angry.

"What's it to you?" the mech snarled back, shrinking slightly. It was a defensive gesture, the snarky reply; she was taller than all four of them, and obviously stronger, and the new mech couldn't scare her by acting tough as he was with the other three. "It's not your problem."

She growled, deep and low, and smiled inwardly when the mech's optics went wide. "It becomes my problem when I'm walking to class and I see a warrior who thinks he's the best warrior in the Academy terrorizing those he's supposed to protect."

The mech swung wildly at her, and with a clawed hand, gripped his wrist tightly, so much so that he gasped in pain, shuddering. She moved her face close to his and snarled. "Leave. Now." When she let his wrist go, he spun around wildly, slipping in his haste to get away.

Russet felt the Pit-Dragon part of her shift in anger, but she was used to it and pushed it aside easily as she turned to look thoughtfully at the three mechs she saved. By now the halls were absolutely empty; the last student she saw was walking around a breem ago. She inspected the three mechs who stared openly at her, jaws – when visible – open and gaping.

She bent down carefully (they looked so spooked that she felt that if she moved too quickly, they'd bolt) and began to collect the data-pads scattered on the ground. The standing mech was the more hot-headed one, and reminded Russet of her sister as he turned around and inspected his friends critically. He was red and white, with a gray chevron and a boxy body that seemed awkward to Russet.

The first mech who spoke to her – a white, green, and red mech that wore a gray face mask over the lower half of his face – seemed to smile. "Hi," he shoved his hand into the space between them. "My name's Wheeljack, but my friends always call me Jack."

Russet tilted her head to the side and nodded, carefully taking his hand in her clawed one. He gulped nervously, but bravely shook her hand, vocal indicators flashing a nervous green-blue. "My name is Russet. Uh…" she handed the data-pads to him. "Here." She got to her feet slowly, looking at the third mech, a light blue and red mech who stared up at her with open fear.

She bit her lip gently, and her olfactory slits twitched. Fear assailed her senses, and she gave an imperceptible shudder at the thick, sharp smell. The masked mech exuded a sense of…cheerfulness? He was almost happy, and it was strange to Russet, who was used to serious, angry, sad, or fearful expressions and scents. The red and white mech was still defensive, giving off a feeling of calm wariness.

"I don't remember seeing you here," Wheeljack continued cheerfully, getting to his feet. "And I thought I could at least recognize all the students in the Science Academy."

Russet looked down to avoid the three identically blue optics directed at her. "I'm new here. Me an' my sister were dropped off today."

The red and white mech calmed down slightly, enough to give a wry smirk. "Well, what a first day, huh?" Russet realized then that he wasn't sure if she was going to bully them or not. He shook his head. "Well, we're all late to class now, thanks to that jerk."

She gave a low, irritated rumble, and the three mechs jumped. She was immediately sorry, and cut the noise, giving a nervous shuffle. "So…" Wheeljack said, handing the data-pads back to their owners. "Why aren't you going to class?"

Russet bit her lip ruefully. "I'm lost." She admitted. "Maps aren't my strong point," she said defensively when they all raised optic ridges at her.

"And fighting is?" the third mech asked, voice dry. Russet's armor shivered and she narrowed her eyes in irritation. Throwing caution to the wind, she threw her invisibility over herself and stalked away with an irritated switch of her hips.

"Thanks anyway," she snarled. "I'll find my own way."

_Well, there goes my attempt at being friendly_, she thought sourly as she stalked silently through the halls, looking on occasion at the map in her hand. _Right out the window._ The Pit-Dragon in her grumbled in irritation and she gave a low snarl that no one in the halls – if there _was_ anyone in the halls – would be able to hear. Pit-Dragons didn't make friends; they were loners. But she was also a femme, as Sentinel Prime had always told her. Femmes were social creatures, and social creatures thrived in society with friends around them.

She clenched her fists tightly, feeling the gentle prick of her claws digging into her palm. She was always trapped in between. She was a femme and also a Pit-Dragon – a social creature and a loner. She stopped abruptly in the hall, looking down at her map before looking back up at the sign. There it was! With a relieved sigh, she shucked her invisibility and opened the door.

The class looked up, and she paused in the doorway, feeling like an intruder. The professor looked up from his table and smiled amiably, walking over. Any reservations she had about coming late were brushed aside by the kind mech whose name was Bomb Tech. Briskly he welcomed her to his class, and found her a seat, giving her data chips and –pads for the notes she missed. He waved off her apologies, claiming that 'even the best of us must admit that we're not perfect at some time.' Then he gestured humorously at his bomb-scarred armor and face, causing the class – and Russet – to laugh.

The door opened and three meek heads popped in. "Ah, thank you for joining us. We now have a full class," Bomb Tech exclaimed jovially, ever-present smile firmly in place. Even though it had scarcely been a breem since she walked in, she was firmly convinced that the smile didn't fade from his face ever. Pit, he probably _recharged_ with it.

"Sorry we're late, sir," it was the red and blue mech Russet had saved earlier. He shuffled, looking down at his feet as Wheeljack and the red and white mech filed in as well, looking abashed but not to the extent of the red and blue mech.

Bomb Tech gave a hearty laugh. "No, no, it's all right. So long as you don't make it a common occurrence, I don't mind tardiness if there is a sound reason behind it." With that, he moved on to the next topic: the late mechs' seating and the syllabus of the combined science-and-medicine class.

The red and white mech was assigned to sit beside Russet, while the other two were assigned to the table just behind them. The upper layer of her back armor bristled, a Pit-Dragon reflex to possible threats, but she otherwise ignored them, very much aware of the hurt they had inadvertently caused her.

Likewise, the red and white mech seemed to be reluctant to bother her too much, so other than sharing his name with her (it was Ratchet), he said nothing. Judging by his smell, he was also rather intimidated by her size, which kept him from speaking at all.

"And now it's all time for your favorite class," Bomb Tech said dryly, looking at the chronometer on the wall nearby. The chime sounded for the class to end, and the professor bid them good day.

"Where's your next class?" Russet looked down and to the side where Wheeljack looked expectantly up at her.

She dug around in her bag and handed the data-pad with her schedule to him wordlessly. While he was extra careful about her clawed digits, he seemed much more comfortable around her. He gave a low, whistling sound and Ratchet looked over his shoulder. "Same as us," he said with a shy smile up at her. "You know mine and Jack's names, but this," he jerked his head at the red and blue mech. "Is Perceptor, but we mostly call him Percy."

Russet grunted, still a little miffed though her face remained as smooth and expressionless as ever. "Don't want to be late," she said at last.

* * *

Their next class was in a large room with a small arena in the center. Russet recognized the setting well; when she used to work for Keel Haul, her and her sister used to fight in arenas like the one she was going to study in. They were infamous in the illegal fighting arenas for being cold, ruthless fighters. It also kept their skills sharp.

Their teacher was the exact opposite of Bomb Tech. By Russet's very accurate calculations, he was around three to four times her age, with a thick body and thick limbs. He had a few scars, but when visible, they were rarely life-threatening ones. Russet herself liked to keep her scars, but she doubted that he did it out of a liking for the souvenirs of battles; most likely to scare his students into submission. Her olfactory slits twitched slightly as she took in the smells of the arena. The other science students were apprehensive, that much she could pick up, but the teacher – who introduced himself as Upper Cut – exuded a scent and feeling of cockiness that immediately rattled the spines on her back.

"In line, against the wall, now!" Upper Cut barked, and the students scrambled to obey while Russet followed at a more dignified pace, making sure she was situated near Ratchet, Perceptor, and Wheeljack. She had a feeling that she'd have to intervene on their behalf. Again. Upper Cut shifted into a parade-rest position, and Russet regarded him thoughtfully as he spoke, immediately deciding that she didn't like him. After describing the course, Upper Cut went over the reasons for it. "As you all know, Cybertron is at war."

The students murmured amongst themselves, and the three beside her shuddered, a fresh stab of fear-smell rising in the air. Russet curled her lips in disdain; it was making her sick.

"Silence!" Upper Cut roared, and the Pit-Dragon in her wanted to roar in reply to the challenge. With practiced ease, Russet quieted it and listened to the instructor. "Now, sadly, I have to deal with you sissies and teach you how to defend yourself so you don't get killed or lose any of your work to the wrong hands." He huffed derisively. "Who knows? You may be a scientist, engineer, or medic in the Autobot ranks and may end up having to defend your work against the Decepticons, or vice versa." He walked up and down the line, eyeing them as Russet would have, searching for flaws and weaknesses in order to adapt the lessons accordingly. Though Russet could tell that he was looking for the ones he could pick on the most as well. "If you've had combat training – formal or informal – before, take two steps forward."

Russet's spine twitched, and with a quick glance at her self-proclaimed charges, took two steps forward. Though she could hardly remember it, she _did_ remember that her and her sister had formal lessons in fighting basics near the beginning of the time she worked for Keel Haul. After those formal lessons, they were taken to informal lessons which taught them improvisation and melee fighting. With the basics beneath their armor, they had been able to excel at the melee fights, which made them as deadly and infamous as they were.

Upper Cut scowled as everyone took two steps forward save for Wheeljack, Ratchet, and Perceptor. Russet had a sinking feeling in the pit of her fuel tanks, but did nothing. "If you've had intensive lessons, take two more steps forward." Russet and three others obeyed, and Upper Cut's scowl deepened. "If you've had lessons for a majority of your life, take a step forward." This time, Russet was the only one to move.

Upper Cut circled her and her spines twitched almost invisibly when he at last grunted. He stopped his inspection of her and looked at the three still against the wall. "Well, it looks like you have a lot to catch up on." This time, Russet's spikes flared upward until they were at nearly-ninety degree angles to her back; Upper Cut's voice held twists of malicious glee, and even his scent attested to his eagerness to bully these three.

"I can tutor them," Russet found herself saying, and the instructor turned sharply to look at her.

"What was that, soldier?" hearing the associated name for her appearance, made Russet's spines twitch, and the Pit-Dragon in her growl. The instructor had obviously been a soldier – a good one – but he certainly wasn't an officer. Russet had seen her fair share of both good and bad officers while working with Sentinel Prime, and had learned from the best how to gauge which mech – or femme – fit into which category. He was a soldier thrust into an officer's position, or a position of power. No longer could this poor soldier bully others around him; now he had to learn tact and diplomacy. _Or he'll find his innards shoved down his throat,_ the Pit-Dragon side of her murmured and she shushed it once more.

"I _said_ that I could tutor them." She replied levelly, gold optics narrow and trained on the slightly (_very_ slightly) taller mech. A quick movement put her between Upper Cut and the three against the wall. "I assume that I am ahead in the class, having taken intensive _and_ formal lessons in combat and fighting for most of my life. What better person to instruct three beginners in the basics while the instructor himself brings the rest up to par?"

Upper Cut regarded her shrewdly, lips curling in disdain. "How can I know you're telling the truth?" Yes, definitely not an officer.

Her olfactory slits flared and twitched in irritation, jerking her head at the arena. It was rather obvious, really, but the instructor, as expected, took the bait. She didn't need any other action to know for sure that this mech in front of her was never an officer, or in a position of power over others; he was a simple soldier chosen for his fighting skills to teach at the Iacon Academy.

Optics narrowed, she gauged his reaction. _He won't wait to go to the arena_, the Pit-Dragon side hissed.

_I don't doubt that,_ her more civilized side – the part of her that was Russet – murmured in reply. _But I cannot strike an instructor without first being invited to or without just reason; he must attack first._

The Pit-Dragon in her grumbled and snarled but didn't debate the logic. As ever, it simmered beneath her consciousness, ever aware, and ever ready for a good fight. Her back-spines twitched as she waited for the verdict. "How fast can you disarm someone?" Upper Cut asked.

"I was never timed," Russet admitted. "I can say for certain that I move faster than you give me credit for. Sir." She added challengingly.

Upper Cut grunted and went into a wrestler's crouch. "Let's see what you got, then." A golden glare made the students move back against the wall, and Russet settled for a balanced stance, though she remained upright. The Pit-Dragon in her knew better than to take over, but it swam in the reaches of her cortex, eager for the fight ahead. "Armed or unarmed?"

Russet shrugged. "I don't usually fight with weapons; I prefer close combat. But you're welcome to, if you want." _It won't make a difference_, she muttered to herself. The Pit-Dragon side of her snarled with glee. Upper Cut took out a pair of charged batons, spinning them in his hands.

Upper Cut feigned left, and Russet remained steady. Part of being a Pit-Dragon was knowing when someone was pulling her tail and when they truly meant to rip it off. And it also gave her a bit of satisfaction seeing the confused look Upper Cut gave her when she didn't retaliate. He narrowed his optics at her as he spun his batons, dancing to the side. Like many warriors, he went for style and finesse rather than function. Russet and Gold were of the belief that if it looks ugly (or stupid) but works, that's all that matters.

A chance blow caught her in the leg, but it was her foreleg in Pit-Dragon form, and since she was in her mech form, it wasn't important. With a quick spin, she kicked his feet out from under him, and leapt away when he lashed out with his batons. Upper Cut caught himself with one hand and true to her word, she moved faster than he believed and twisted his weapon arm behind his back, placing a taloned foot on his other arm, preventing him from moving.

He tapped out and she took a step back, Pit-Dragon mind simmering beneath her own. _Why would he give up?_ It hissed, and if it could, it would be pacing.

_Because he didn't _really_ tap out._ Russet replied. _He's planning something._

Sure enough, a moment later Upper Cut lunged at them, meaning to go totally hand-to-hand. However, he underestimated her strength and with quick twitches of her surprisingly strong arms, had his arms crossed painfully over his head while her foot pressed on his skidplate, preventing any other movement. He couldn't even tap out. When he tried to jerk his hands out of her grip, she unsheathed her claws, letting him feel the razor-sharp tips against the unprotected wires of his wrist. Giving him a minute to let his anger boil, Russet waited until she felt him sigh.

She took a step back, letting him drop. The bell rang and the students fled, save for Ratchet, Wheeljack, Perceptor, and Russet. Quickly, Russet jerked her head to the door, and the three fled with the femme close at their heels.

* * *

Reading her data-pad, Russet ignored the comings and goings (but mostly goings) of the mechs and femmes around her. It was a well-practiced game; everyone always cleared out from the area she was in, whether consciously or unconsciously. So it was with great surprise that she looked up to find Ratchet, Perceptor, and Wheeljack sitting in front of her almost nervously. She snorted. "I don't bite," she said at last, going back to her course syllabi.

She could tell that Perceptor opened his mouth, but judging by the sounds, Wheeljack, Ratchet, or both of them clapped their hands over his mouth. She grunted and took a sip of her Energon. "And yes, I _am_ aware that I look rather scary, not to mention that I handed an instructor his skidplate not two groons ago, but honestly. If I _wanted_ to hurt you, I wouldn't have stopped that bully."

"That's why we're still here," Wheeljack said, ever-cheerful.

"Don't know how you keep putting up with us," Ratchet muttered, shaking his head.

Russet looked up at them, face twisted in a wry smile. "I don't know either."


	5. Why Everyone Hates Reunions

_Present day..._

I frowned, regarding the medic looming above me. "It's not healthy," he insisted.

I propped my hands on my hips and glared back at him. "I know _brooding_ isn't, but what _I'm_ doing is perfectly fine."

An optic ridge rose. "Oh? And spending most of your time in the Captain's quarters _is_?"

We both frowned; we were already giving her a general name so we wouldn't realize how much we wished she was back with us. I sighed. "If I explain myself and ask you not to tell anyone, would you?"

Ratchet recoiled slightly, regarding me thoughtfully. "It depends."

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache creeping up on me. Quickly, I explained why I was spending so much time locked in either my room or…or Mother's. The ancient medic looked surprised. "So?" I demanded.

The red and white medic looked thoughtful. At long last, he did a neat about-face and walked into his office. He returned a moment later with a small box which he handed to me. "Use these. I don't know if they'll be useful, but…these are all the ones that mention her. Don't tell Jazz or Prowl until you're finished, though."

I raised a brow at his advice, though indicated that I'd follow it. "Why?"

Ratchet refused to meet my eyes, tapping the box with a big red finger. "Read." Was all he said.

I smiled and hugged as much of the grumpy medic as I could. "Thanks."

He stroked my hair as well as he was able to. "Anytime, Narz. Remember her well."

I looked up at him. "I will."

-

_Russ?_ Russet looked up from her homework, frowning in mid-word.

_Goldie?_ It was nice to hear from her; they hadn't spoken in a few days, as they didn't have any free time to speak to each other.

"Russ?" Jack asked, waving a hand in front of her optics. "You okay?"

_We have a transmission from Sentinel!_ Her friends started as her face bloomed into one of joy.

She leapt to her feet. _Really? What's he saying?_

Her sister gave a low snort, and Russet knew she was smiling. _He's asking for you to get your lazy skidplate here. Well? Come on! He wants to talk to you, too, you know._

"I'll be right back," Russet called over her shoulder as she raced and skidded out of the room.

"O-okay then." Jack said at last.

Percy shrugged. "We all knew she was weird already."

Ratchet smacked him upside the head. "I don't know _how_ she still deals with us if you keep insulting her like that." He grumbled. "Watch. After all this is over, I'd have hit you guys so much that I'll be a cranky old medic in a few vorns."

The two shook their heads and returned to their studies.

* * *

Russet skidded into the communications office, and found Gold in a corner, speaking to Sentinel Prime who was on the screen. The orange and gold mech smiled when he saw Russet trot happily over. "Hey, Russet. Gold was just telling me of some of your adventures."

She stopped and thumbed her nose in embarrassment. "All blown way out of proportion, I bet."

Sentinel Prime gave a low chuckle. "I would assume as well. Well? Let's hear it."

Embarrassed, Russet gave them the full accounts of her first few days at the Academy, and the trouble she got into defending the three scientists were cause for great amusement. He grimaced when she told him about Upper Cut, and how he continues to pick on her and her self-proclaimed charges. They could both tell he was worried about what she did to him, but after she assured him – many times – that she didn't do anything more than wrestle with him with his full consent, she breathed a sigh of relief.

The twins traded glances, slightly miffed that he of all people would doubt them after the five stellar cycles they spent under his tutoring and therapy. He saw their glances and smiled ruefully. "Sorry," he said, rubbing his nose. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"Yea, yea, Papa." Gold teased, and Sentinel Prime laughed.

The mech they had come to consider either a close friend or a father chuckled. He paused, looking at a data-pad nearby. "Well, I guess I'm missing my two daughters right now," he admitted ruefully. "How about this weekend during your breaks you guys come over and have lunch with me?"

Gold agreed readily, but Russet paused and bit her lip. "What is it?" her sister asked, putting a clawed hand on her shoulder.

"Bomb Tech – my science teacher – said that we should go to that Science Forum they have in the Dome," she admitted. "My friends and I were planning on going and staying through most of the day."

"How many friends?" Sentinel asked, an amused smile spreading across his face. His little loner was on her way to not being a loner anymore!

"Three," she replied, and Gold laughed.

"Those troublemakers you keep defending?" she asked, and Russet scratched her nose with her clawed thumb in embarrassment.

"Yea. Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor. They're in all of my classes."

Sentinel Prime smiled. "Well, how about after, then? Dinner? You can invite your friends, too. I'd like to meet them."

Russet agreed, and so did Gold after a moment's thought. They made small talk for another breem before all three of them had to sign out, on account of their work. With a smile, the twins skipped off to their respective areas after a wave at each other. Though they hadn't been _too_ melancholy (as much as they hated to admit it), it was still nice to hear from Sentinel Prime again.

The Pit-Dragon in Russet rumbled, pleased. Shaking her head, Russet ran all the way back to the dorm rooms where she left her friends.

* * *

Russet spoke animatedly with Ratchet, discussing the previous lesson (the strange and rare occurrence of twins) while Percy and Wheeljack brought up the rear. When they reached the Iacon Dome, where the Science Forum was being held, they took out their Academy ID cards and showed it to the guards.

A blue and green mech raced over, skidding to a stop in front of them. "Russ!"

"Serenade?" she hugged the mech tightly, a grin spread across her face. "I didn't think I'd see you here again!"

"You know him?" Ratchet asked, the less shy of her three friends.

Russet turned, one arm slung across the shorter mech's shoulders. Due to her alt. form, she was taller than most mechs, something that often made her and her sister uncomfortable. "Sorry," she murmured unabashedly. "These are my friends from the Academy – Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor. Guys, this is an old friend of mine-"

"Friend?" Serenade teased, and Russet glared at him.

"Fine, fine. My old _tutor_ from before." She finished, rolling her optics. Russet looked at Serenade. "What're you doing here, anyway?"

Serenade huffed. "I'll tell ya later. Now come on, come on in so ya don't block th' entrance." He had a slight country burr which had always made Russet smile. He led them to a room nearby, ushering them in before he closed it. "Quite frankly, ol' Sentinel asked me t' come an' keep an eye on ye. Jus' in case, y' know?"

Russet growled. "Why?"

The mech shrugged. "Now, Russie, calm yerself," he admonished gently. "Y' know he trusts ye. I guess he jus' wanted t' send ye someone ye know, fer old times' sake."

"Sentinel?" Perceptor echoed, confused.

Russet looked at him. "I'll tell you later." Wisely, he backed off. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, Ser, but why are you here?"

Serenade gave a low laugh. "Well, for one I wanted t' come. There're s'pposed t' be some interesting speakers today, and the convention part of th' forum's s'pposed t' be the best ever." Russet raised a brow ridge, and he sighed. "_And_ 'cause Sentinel sent me 'ere." He dug in his subspace pocket and produced four tickets on looped cords. "'E wanted me t' give ye this. Said t' call it a gift from 'im."

The high-class passes glittered up at them, and the students were awed for a moment. "He sent _this_ for us?"

Serenade chuckled. "Said 'e though' tha' it'd be a good gift for ye, an' a good learnin' 'xperience t' watch th' forum."

Russet huffed, but didn't argue, slipping the cord around her neck. "I'll have a few words to say to him later." She muttered. Her old tutor laughed and swung an arm around her shoulder.

"I'm sure you will. But as for right now…let's go take a look, shall we?"

* * *

"Uh, Russ?" Russet and Ratchet stopped their argument once more to look back at Wheeljack and Perceptor.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know where we are?" Perceptor squeaked, optics wide as he stared up at the enormous building in front of them.

"Russ!" a gold and silver femme leapt at Russet from out of nowhere, tackling her. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me your fighting skills have gone rusty since you started being a scientist." She pouted from her perch on Russet's abdomen.

"Gold? Your claws, please?" the femme squeaked in reply.

"Oh. Sorry." The other femme somersaulted off and helped the exact replica in dark gray and dark red to her clawed feet. "So, how was the forum?"

Russet huffed. "Well enough. I have a few choice words for Sentinel when he finally comes out of his office." She turned. "These are my friends."

Gold smiled, obviously on her best behavior, and offered a clawed hand to shake. "My name's Gold. I'm Russet's sister." She smiled suddenly, baring her sharp dental plates. Like her sister, she had a fanged mouth, though she was less wary of showing it; Russet hardly showed her dental plates at all while it was common to see Gold smiling and showing everyone around her the sharp fangs that adorned her mouth components.

Ratchet started in surprise, while Wheeljack, with his characteristic recklessness, took her hand first. "Nice to meet you," he said, voice indicators flashing only slightly green. "I'm Wheeljack."

Shaking his head, the medic-in-training also shook her hand. "I'm Ratchet. This is Perceptor," he added, jerking his head over his shoulder at the scientist-in-training who had shuffled over to hide behind him.

Gold merely smiled and turned to Russet. "Well? I hope you haven't gone _too_ soft."

Russet ducked out of her sister's grip and spun away. "Naw, I'm fine enough to kick your skidplate across the arena any day."

Her sister grinned, russet optics flashing. "Is that a challenge?" a low growl threaded through her words as they both slipped into a crouch.

"Now, children, please behave," two golden hands fell on their shoulders and the lethal growls they traded died as they grinned up at the gold and orange mech. "The first time in a while I get to see my two daughters and you start fighting again?"

Both femmes traded fanged smirks. "But Sentinel," they whined in unison. "We haven't seen each other in _ages._"

The big mech shook his head as he let them go. They straightened to their full height and gave him fanged grins. Russet, the calmer of the two turned around. "These are my friends. Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor."

Sentinel – Sentinel _Prime_ – smiled at them and held out his hand. "It's nice to finally meet you," he greeted them amiably, as if he was only talking about the weather. "Russet has told me a lot about you."

The three gaped and stared first at Sentinel Prime, then at Russet and Gold who were bickering about something. Slowly, Wheeljack took Sentinel's hand and gave it a tentative shake. "Nice to meet you too," he said shakily.

Ratchet shook his head and shook his hand as well. "We should've known; when it comes to Russet, expect the unexpected. No offense, sir."

Sentinel chuckled and smiled. "None taken," he glanced at the two femmes who continued to bicker, ignoring them for the most part. "Those twins…" he shrugged. "You never know with them."

Russet and Gold stopped their bickering, training their identically-shaped optics on him, Russet's hurting, Gold's angry. Russet bit her lip and looked away, rubbing the protruding spikes on her legs in a nervous gesture. "Congratulations, Sentinel," Gold growled. "Not even a breem and already you've insulted her."

The big yellow and orange mech gave a sheepish chuckle. "Sorry." He jerked his head toward the building. "Shall we?"

* * *

At the best of times, it was hard to interpret Russet's facial expressions. When she was closed, there were very few clues as to what caused her to recede from society.

_Now was no exception,_ Ratchet thought sourly, watching his good friend. Even after knowing her for a little more than a meta-cycle, they found that they knew very little of their massive friend. Pit, they weren't even sure of Russet's true gender! The best he could describe her expression now was…flighty or irritated. Which exactly, he wasn't entirely sure.

Her optics – a bright, shimmering amber – flashed around, seeming almost afraid. Her sister, who Ratchet suspected usually acted as a buffer to whatever made her nervous, sat on the other side of Sentinel Prime – too far away from Russet. And whatever was bothering his friend didn't allow her to be soothed by Ratchet's presence.

Back at the Academy, he acted as the level-headed side of the group with Russet, but when things got entirely too uncomfortable for Russet, she tended to disappear inside herself, as she was doing now. _Usually_, Russet would calm if Ratchet sat near her, but not now.

Not to mention her back-spines were up, indicating some inner turmoil.

Even Gold seemed to pick it up, for her dark red optics flashed to Russet every once in a while, and her back-spines were twitching. The waiter brought them a final drink to the end of their meal, and Ratchet noticed that the two held different drinks.

Ratchet tapped his friend beside him, and rich golden optics turned to regard him nervously. "Middle-grade?" he asked quietly. Ratchet, Wheeljack, Perceptor, and Sentinel Prime all held cubes of high-grade Energon, which glowed a bright pink; Gold and Russet each held a cube with Energon a few shades lighter.

Sentinel Prime, on Russet's other side, heard and gave a low chuckle, drinking his own high-grade. "Well, they _were_ designed that way."

There was a low creak as Russet's claws dug into the table; somewhere behind and to the right of Ratchet, there was a low _snick_ as Russet's back-spines jerked upward abruptly. "You're edging into dangerous territory, Sentinel," Gold hissed, claws as deep into the table as Russet's. "We were designed to be _efficient_." She added defensively to Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor.

"Efficient _killing machines._" Sentinel Prime corrected glibly, sipping from his drink.

There was a loud sound as the container in Russet's other hand shattered, spilling its contents all over her dark arm. Now that Ratchet was paying attention, he could hear the subtle rumble that was present whenever his friend got angry. When she opened her mouth, words didn't come out; an angry roar did.

For a split second, she looked both surprised and horrified, claws wrenching out of the table. And then she was angry again, and her optics seemed to grow lighter until they were hovering between white and yellow; she turned and raced away. Two steps away from the table, she disappeared from view.

Gold was snarling openly, standing over Sentinel Prime. Faster than they believed possible, her arm shot out and clamped around his throat. The Prime's face twisted into a mask of surprise and genuine fear as he was raised up above the ground with a single, clawed and spiked arm. "If we did not already owe you, we'd have killed you." She snarled, voice an octave deeper. Like Russet, her eyes lightened to a maroon-pink in her ire. "Pit _knows_ Rykenta is dying to rip your spark out." Her hands jerked open and the orange and yellow mech fell, landing hard on his chair. With a jerking motion, Gold's suddenly-lighter optics flashed over the rest of the table before turning and disappearing as Russet had.

Sentinel Prime shook his head, hand to his throat. Serenade ran into the room, tiny little nicks like claw marks adorned the side of his face and helm, noticeable only when he knelt beside the Prime. "Fergive me, sir, but ye're an idiot." He told the mech bluntly, batting the Prime's hands away as he inspected his throat. "Ye're lucky – no injuries." He huffed at last, sitting back. "Ye couldn't _wait_ t' ge' them angry, could ye?" he demanded. "Slag i' all t' th' Pits, Prime," he cried, throwing his hands up. "Ye _know_ how delicate their balance is! Ye jus' love tempin' fate, don' ye?"

"I didn't expect them to _attack_ me," the Prime muttered back, looking properly chastised.

Serenade pinched the bridge of his nose and appeared to be counting to himself – for patience, most likely. "Well, as ye so cheerfully put i', they _were_ raised tha' way." He stood, shaking his head. "No painkillers for ye." He grumbled. "Now Ah have t' go find Ironhide so we c'n track th' twins down." He shook his head once more, casting a glance at the three startled mechs. "Ah'll take y' guys somewhere. Th' labs, maybe? Th' techs won' mind if y' take a look 'round." He nodded. "Sentinel, go back t' yer office 'r finish yer high-grade; Ah'll make sure ev'rythin' ge's taken care of."

With a quick gesture at them, Serenade began to walk quickly. The three students leapt out of their seats and raced after him.

* * *

"We found th' twins 'round fahve stellar cycles 'go," Serenade told them, walking at a quick, clipped pace down the halls. "They were stree' fahters an' trained mercenaries." His blue optics flashed to their shocked faces before he continued. "Their employer was 'rrested fer illegal possession o' drugs, high-grade, an' other illegal p'raphernalia. They were also taken in fer questioning, bu' Sentinel Prime ruled tha' they were too young t' b' tried as full 'dults, thus they 'ere sentenced wi' therapy fer as long as 'e deemed necessary."

Ratchet frowned thoughtfully. Even _he_ (and he was youngest of the group) was old enough to be tried as an adult five stellar cycles ago. "How old _are_ they?"

A brow-ridge rose as Serenade looked over his shoulder at them. "Eight."

Even Wheeljack was speechless. "Eight…vorns?"

"Eight stellar cycles." Serenade stopped and turned around. "She didn't tell ye how old she was?"

The three shook their heads. "Russet hardly told us _anything_ about herself. We weren't even sure of her gender!"

The scientist shook his head. "Ah though' she'd be a bi' more open, bu'…well, Ah can't exactly blame 'er."

"What did Sentinel Prime mean by 'killing machines?'" Wheeljack asked, curiosity getting the better of him at long last.

In a gesture they had come to associate with Russet when she was nervous, Serenade bit his lip. "Come wi' me," he said at last. "Ah can' tell ye – rather, Ah c'n show ye."

* * *

"Th' Twins _look_ 'like an' a' first glance, _are_ alike." Serenade told them as they continued quickly down the hallways, occasionally waving distractedly to the mechs and femmes they passed. "However, 'pon further notice, Gol' is th' more flashy 'un. She's also much more passionate th'n Russ', so dealing wi' 'er c'n b'e rather difficult. Gol' feels tha' all she's good fer is fahtin' an' killin', an' sees tha' also 's a way t' ge' rid o' 'er stress. Russ's th' quiet, calculating 'un. She's th' more…diplomatic, 'un. We won' likely fin' them t'gether, bu' th' only thin' we c'n do is find Russ' an' ge' 'er t' calm Gol' down – she's th' only 'un tha' c'n d' it c'nsistently."

He turned a corner and swiped his key card. After a moment's pause, the green light flashed and the door opened slowly, as if reluctant. A soft breeze whistled over their frames, carrying the strange smell similar to the ones of the marshes in Volxion. Serenade beckoned them into the large room, and the door slid shut behind them.

The room was enormous, with dark, dirty waters much like the surface of Volxion. Like the marshes. A long metal walkway stretched across the breadth of the room, a foot or so above the churning, muddy water. On the other side of the long room, was a closed door.

"That's Russ's office," Serenade explained, pointing to the door. Then he motioned to the swampy surroundings. "_This_, however, well, it's to make 'er feel be'er. R'nthanoss likes th' marshes, bu' they're so unpredictable tha' y' never know if they'll come 'ere 'r not. C'mon."

Hesitantly, they followed the scientist on to the walkway and froze when a massive red creature emerged from the shallows on the other end. At its shoulder, it was as tall as Ratchet, with a serpentine neck and tail. Its head was adorned by various horns, and fangs poked out of the dark red lips, distorted only by the angry curves of jagged horn jutting out from beneath its eyes which glowed a frigid blue-white. Its paws were massive, with three blade-like claws each. Its tail was long and tipped with a scythe-like blade, and adorning its spine were triangular spikes, not unlike Russet's.

It peered at them before stepped cautiously on to the walkway, breath fogging in the air as it shook itself. The walkway creaked but held, and the creature snarled, metallic lips peeling away to reveal curved fangs like little blades. Viscous liquid dripped from its teeth and landed with low hisses on the walkway – acid. Even Serenade was frozen. "Slag."

* * *

**Yay.**

**Quick notes not explained in this chapter:  
-_Ranthanoss_: Russet's Pit-Dragon side.  
-_Rykenta_: Gold's Pit-Dragon side.  
-_Pit-Dragon sides_: In an effort to make them much more dangerous, Keel Haul added to the Twins the mind of a Pit-Dragon. It also came along with their animal-based alternate mode, a reason many choose not to travel down that particular path. Living with the Twins their entire life, Ranthanoss and Rykenta eventually came up with names for themselves and adapted to their new environment. Now, Ranthanoss acts as Russet's conscience...sort of. He interacts with her and gives her advice whenever he can. Not much is known about Rykenta, but we can guess that he's very violent.**


	6. Disturbia

The murmur of voices popped and swam around in her cortex, and Russet growled to herself. Little marsh flitters spun lazily in the air, a few landing on her own body, tiny claws tapping lightly against her heavier armor.

_Why are you so angry?_ Ranthanoss murmured, sounding confused. When it came down to her emotions, her Pit-Dragon side was _always_ confused.

Russet gave an inarticulate growl in reply, scaring the marsh flitters off for a moment. They returned after a while, cocking their tiny heads. In the limited vocabulary they had, they chattered and buzzed at her, curious as to why she was distressed. The voices slowed in their swimming as many pairs of optics trained on her.

Her larger friends in the deep water below her paused in their swimming, turning their sloped heads up to look at her in open curiosity; they wanted to know why she was so sad.

They_ don't judge me,_ Russet spat, gesturing to the creatures in the almost-menagerie with her. _To them, I'm just another Pit-Dragon-and-Changer. I'm nothing more and they never judge me for what I've done and what I do now._

Ranthanoss was silent for a moment, thinking. She could practically feel him pacing around in her cortex, clawed paws making low _thump_ing noises. _They have their own society,_ he said at last. _You are a Pit-Dragon-And-Changer to them, but that's all they know about you. Try to steal their kill or interfere with their hunt and they'll turn on you easily. Your friends are understanding – otherwise they wouldn't be your friends, would they?_

Russet _hmph_ed.

_They've been so understanding already,_ the Pit-Dragon side of her reasoned. _They've never pressed you about anything other than copying homework and helping them study for tests._

The flitters bounced along her spine, little heads picking and pecking at the overlapping plates of armor curiously. Russet huffed, lifting her head to look over her large shoulder at them with a pale gold optic. The sounds of the heavier creatures rumbled through the air around them, and she looked around. The inhabitants of the pond a foot or so below her swam around anxiously, churning the muddy water beneath her. There was a low _yip_ from the long marsh fronds and grasses near the edges of the rooms, and one of the two turbofoxes in the room poked her head through the long strands, wire-whiskers twitching forward.

Russet rumbled at it and the turbofox disappeared into the waving grasses once more. A lone turbohawk cried from its aerie high above – a friend-call. Russet looked up at the jagged protrusions to see her friends among the turbohawk community making their home in the higher portions of the room.

_With friends like these, why did I ever leave the office?_ She asked Ranthanoss who grunted.

_The turbohawks are fine,_ he conceded. _But it's the…others I'm worried about._ He muttered.

Russet sighed, climbing to her feet. She walked to the ladder on the far wall, beginning to climb. The marsh flitters, seeing where she was headed to, darted away. _I don't get it, Ran, no offense,_ she admitted. _You're a Pit-Dragon, yet you don't trust any other creatures even if they're below you._ If he could, Ranthanoss would've rolled his eyes.

_With good reason,_ he muttered. They said nothing more as the soothing sounds of the turbohawk aerie washed over them.

The proud new parents allowed her to handle their new chicks, furry little creatures. The parents perched on her shoulders, running their long, curved beaks over her face and helm. She _had_ raised them both after all. Her clawed hand paused as it stroked one of the chicks, hearing the lock click and the door hiss open.

"That's Russ's office," Serenade was explaining, pointing to the door. Russet poked her head over the edge of the outcropping, watching as her friends walked out on the walkway. From her high vantage point, she could see them clearly, as well as the shapes moving about in the water.

The 'hawk on her shoulder ruffled his feathers and made a low sound, head jerking spasmodically. Murmuring quietly to him, she absently preened his chest feathers. She let Ranthanoss take over, and felt a spasm of trepidation wash though her as he concentrated on the movement of the water. A bit red shape moved close beneath the surface, heading toward the marshy ground near the door to her office.

The big shape climbed out of the water, dirty water sliding from his massive form. Big and red and nearly twice as big she was, the other Pit-Dragon snarled at the "intruders." He stalked forward, drooling. It was the walk of a creature who was an apex predator and _knew_ it.

Russet transformed, claws digging into the cliff with a low snarl. The turbohawks ushered their chicks inside, and gave a long cry. A warning-cry. The other turbohawks (all four of them) disappeared quickly into their own aeries.

The Pit-Dragon looked up at her, startled. And then it gave a low, long hiss threaded through with a sound like a bolt shaking in an empty tin box. That was its prey, and to get it, Russet would have to fight him. She snarled in reply and as them on the walkway watched, she leapt off the aerie she was on. She leapt from aerie to aerie, lowering herself until she could leap and land on the walkway with a heavy clank and a low groan. The walkway shuddered beneath her, dropping an inch lower. The panel jerked and the mechs and Russet stumbled.

Russet looked over her shoulder. "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN."

The panel they stood on jerked and groaned as Russet leapt forward with a feral roar. The two behemoths clashed, rising on their hind legs to grapple with each other, jaws snapping. Acid spittle flew through the air and splattered on armor as thin grooves from blade-like claws appeared in the armor of the massive creatures.

At first, the three students didn't know what to make of it: two Pit-Dragons grappling right in front of them! It was a rare and exotic sight, yet thick with fear for the smaller one – the one that was protecting them – was currently losing.

The metal walkway groaned and jerked, dropping a few inches before moaning to a stop. Russet was unbalanced and shifted slightly to the side, tail lashing. The other Pit-Dragon roared and heaved against her, sending her stumbling backwards. The walkway groaned again and the panel she stood on broke. She leapt forward at the other Pit-Dragon as it crashed into the water, grappling once more with the other. The panel they stood on groaned and jerked beneath their weight, and she stumbled once more.

With a triumphant roar, the Pit-Dragon lunged forward and clamped his jaws on her neck, needle-like teeth punching through the armor. With a quick twist of his massive, powerful neck, he swung her aside, flipping her on her side. Placing a massive paw on her shoulder, he twisted and jerked his neck. Russet gave a long shriek of pain, paws scrambling for purchase on anything, on something to get her back to her feet. Or at least something that would get the Pit-Dragon to let her go.

A high shriek echoed above, bouncing off the walls as the creature arrowed down, a rich copper comet. It slammed into the big red head, clawed feet digging into the left optic of the massive creature. It clawed at its head furiously, narrowly dodging the needle-fangs of the Pit-Dragon as Russet climbed shakily to her feet.

She shook her head dizzily, aware that shimmering pink liquid flowed sluggishly from her wounds, creating glittering pink trails on her dark armor. Lowering her head, she charged at the other Pit-Dragon, sending him stumbling backwards. He reared up and batted the copper comet out of the air, sending the turbohawk flying. It landed in a pile of limp metallic feathers near the broken part of the walkway, wings askew.

Carefully, Ratchet scooped it up, cradling the massive creature in his arms. It squeaked and _chrr_ed, wings flopping limply as its long tail draped over his arms. "Ratchet!" the medic-in-training looked up and crouched as the panel beneath him groaned and jerked. Holding the turbohawk in one hand, he heaved himself to his feet and ran toward his friends and Serenade who were in the hallway near the door.

The panel beneath him jerked and he slipped, falling forward. At the last minute, he curled around the injured turbohawk and landed hard on his arms, wincing as the metal bent inward to press on the wires in them. Not to mention the panel began to fall, slanting sharply into the churning brown water. Digging his red fingers into the grated panels, he jerked his arm that held the turbohawk, putting it safely on a flat panel, freeing his other arm.

The panel he was on jerked again and he cried out as his legs from his feet to his knees were submerged in the cool, muddy water. He kicked his legs frantically, trying to find purchase on the smooth metal even as he tried to pull himself up. The coppery turbohawk struggled to its feet and clumsily batting its wings, voiced a ringing screech. For a moment, Ratchet stared at the 'hawk, blue optics wide. It sounded as if it was trying to encourage him!

The panel jerked again and he redoubled his efforts to scramble upward, but it was too late: the panel broke and he was left to dig his fingers into the grate while the rest of his body dangled in the water.

A loud roar drew his attention and he looked over his shoulder. The big red behemoth fell, neck armor bubbling. Shimmering pink fluid rushed in a river down his neck, as it fell limply, dead, into the muddy water, leaving the smaller combatant to kneel. Even at the distance Ratchet was, he could hear the creature's respiration systems working overtime. Her own neck armor was bubbling, and the pink fluid was falling in a faster trickle than before.

For a long, weary moment she eyed the gap before heaving a long, weary sigh. Taking a few steps back, she leapt forward and leapt half-heartedly, landing with a heavy clang on the far side near Ratchet and the turbohawk. And then slowly, painfully, it did what Ratchet didn't expect. It transformed.

The head clipped to her chestplate, as the joints in her hips twisted, bringing her upright. Her forelegs swung over her shoulders, folding neatly as if she had a pair of paws folded behind her. Her tail swung low, twitching anxiously before disappearing into subspace. Then her head emerged as the joints in her legs rearranged to allow her a more "normal" appearance.

Carefully, wearily, Russet knelt down and grasped his elbows with her clawed hands. With a quick countdown, she yanked him up, swinging him on her back. She bent to pick up the turbohawk before limping weakly to the door.

* * *

Bright gold optics flickered on, and Ratchet smiled as Russet blinked them slowly. A second later, Gold's head appeared on her other side. _You're an idiot._

The relieved smile that was spreading across her face at seeing Ratchet safe disappeared quickly as she glared at her sister. _Oh. Thanks. I'm so glad I'm fine, too. _She snapped back sarcastically.

_You should've called me!_ her sister snarled, baring her fanged dental plates.

_I'm _sorry_ I thought I could _handle_ it for once._

Gold growled low in her chest, startling Ratchet and the other mechs in the room. _You're not a fighter, Russ!_

Russet slugged her sister, leaping to her feet as fury raced through her systems. _That's why I have Ranthanoss to work with._ She hopped off the berth and snarling to herself, stalked toward the door.

"Don't you turn your back on me," Gold snarled out loud, and Russet turned around, optics flashing.

"Why not?" she growled back, clawed fingers flexed. "It's not like _you _care, anyway."

"Russ…you can't mean that." Serenade interjected.

The femme swung her head to look at him. "Oh? And you're a mind reader now?"

"I've never turned my back. _On anyone_." Gold snarled back, the last two words ending in a roar.

Russet jerked her head back to her. "Oh? You turn your back on everyone once you get bored of them. Sentinel, Serenade, even _me_." she hissed. Then she smirked suddenly. "You would've turned your back on Keel Haul and left me there with him if you hadn't liked the killing."

The room was silent for a long while, broken only when Gold roared and leapt at her sister. Ratchet grabbed the turbohawk and backed up with it, not wanting to see it trampled. It fluttered its bandaged and splinted arm weakly, giving an indignant squeak at the sudden movement.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Wheeljack asked as Gold, who Russet had sent flying, knocked over a berth and the contents of the table beside it.

Serenade shook his head. "Ya wanna die? Go 'head." he motioned to the twins who were now wrestling fiercely. "Their claws are made of diamond-and-titanium-reinforced alloys that keep it razor-sharp and yet allow it to be strong. They have two layers of armor, the outer stronger and thicker than the inner, and if they can't use their claws on ya, they can throw ya off with brute force. Russ can easily lift all of us if she wanted to."

"Shall I tell them, Russ?" Gold hissed, a low, discordant sound that stopped any other questions. "You liked it, didn't you? The killing."

Russet swiped at her sister, claws just missing her optics as she danced back to avoid being thrown. She said nothing.

"Seeing the fluids spilling. Watching our victim die. Hearing the screams and cries whenever we walked down the streets. Smelling that sweet aroma of pure _fear_. You liked that, didn't you? Don't deny it." Gold purred. Russet was pinned beneath her, and it was strange for the students to see their friend so helpless.

Russet growled in a voice that was strange and new to her friends. "I'm not you," she snarled, throwing her sister off in a sudden, convulsive motion. She gave a rough, hacking cough dodging a strike from her sister before swiping her claws across the side of Gold's helm. They just missed her pale russet optics and the soft, delicate metal of her face. "I never was," grabbing her sister's throat, she spun her and threw her fully into the wall where she stumbled to her feet, dazed. She was lifted by the horned head on her chestplate. "And I never will be." That said, Russet threw her sister bodily out the door before closing and locking it.

With a sound like a choking sob, the femme leaned against the wall and slid down, somehow avoiding gouging the walls with her back-spines. She pulled her legs to her chest and crossing her arms over her knees, buried her face in her arms, hiding herself from the world.

Carefully, Ratchet set the turbohawk down on the table and walked over carefully, kneeling at her side. Serenade, who had begun cleaning up after the fight, didn't notice Ratchet's destination until he had knelt at her side. Bright blue optics widened and he dropped his corner of the berth, causing Perceptor and Wheeljack to sag beneath the sudden weight. "Ratchet, no!"

Confused and startled, Ratchet didn't stop the motion of his hand, and it wasn't until the red metal of his hand gently touched Russet's arm did he realize why. His friend jerked suddenly, and with a feral roar, twisted sideways, swinging her other, clawed hand at his face. His life flashed before his optics, and with a startled cry, he offlined them, waiting for his death.

* * *


	7. Into the Mind of a Monster

There was a long pause until Ratchet finally onlined his optics, and his respiration systems hitched. Long, cruelly curved talons were inches from his optics, frozen in place and shaken. He followed the talons to the clawed hand, further up the spiked arm, up to the powerful shoulders, and the horrified optics of Russet.

Abruptly, the claws jerked back with a near-silent hiss. Somewhere in the back of his cortex, Ratchet noted that her claws must be retractable, or they wouldn't have slid backwards like they had. Russet's hand curled in a fist and with a great rumbling roar, she whirled and raced out the door.

Blue hands with green-striped arms caught him as he stumbled, helping to his feet. He was lifted unceremoniously and with a low grunt from Serenade and placed gently on a skewed berth. The pale gray face appeared in front of him, and the other's blue optics stared into his. "You okay?" Serenade's hand pounded his back and his respirators hitched and popped to life. "You okay?" he asked again, gently flicking Ratchet's forehead with a dull _clink_.

"I-I think so." The red and white mech replied, voice shaking slightly. He swallowed thickly, feeling himself shaking slightly. "Wh-what h-happened?"

Serenade grunted. "Russ's still running on battle-mode." He said shortly. "You're lucky she didn't rip your optics out." He shook his head. "Remember when I told you they were mercenaries? Well, their boss reformatted them so that they'd the more dangerous warriors possible. As a side-effect, however, they began to think more like Pit-Dragons than Cybertronians. Especially if they're fighting. Based on my observations of their behavior, I think that they have the mind and instincts of a Pit-Dragon somewhere in their cortex, which only makes it harder to deal with them."

"Like multiple personalities?" Wheeljack asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.

The mech nodded. "Yea, but slightly different: they're two different creatures in one body. I suppose it's because of their dual minds that allow them to function so well in either form." Blank looks were his only reply. "You've never seen them fight?"

"Weren't they just fighting now?" Percy asked with a frown.

Serenade gave a low laugh. "That? Naw, they were jus' arguing. Happens all the time, though I worry about the intensity."

As the three spoke, none of them noticed that Ratchet picked up the turbohawk and crept out the door.

* * *

"Hey! You!" Ratchet whirled and gave an inaudible squeak as he came face-to-face with the business end of a rifle. "Who are you?"

The turbohawk hissed in his hands, weakly raising its wings and mantling. It gave a long mournful cry that startled the guard briefly. Another guard came around the corner and this one – a dark red one – blinked in confusion before striding quickly over. "_There_ you are."

The guard behind the rifle grunted, and to Ratchet's immense relief, he heard the safety click on though the barrel didn't lower. "You know him?" he sounded disappointed.

The other flapped his hand. "Yea, yea." Like Serenade, he had an accent, and Ratchet wondered if they were related. "Wandered off on me. Come on." The mech grabbed Ratchet's arm and tugged him gently down the hall.

"Why does he have a turbohawk on his shoulder?" The other guard asked suspiciously.

"Well," the other mech holding Ratchet's arm grumbled, motioning discreetly to Ratchet to not say anything. "If you must know, we stopped by Russ's office an' noticed that Cop here was injured. Cop would only come for this guy here, so we're off to return him." He grunted impatiently. "Satisfied?"

The guard gave a grunt in reply, doing a neat about-face and walking away quickly. With Ratchet's arm in his hand, the other mech walked away just as quickly down the other hall, opposite the direction the guard was going. "You're lucky. He's a trigger-happy brute." He shook his head, not pausing in his brisk walk. "So why are you and Cop wanderin' the halls alone?"

Quickly, Ratchet spilled everything that happened without meaning to. When he was finished, the darker mech was silent. "So you're lookin' for her."

Ratchet blinked. "Yeah…?"

The mech stopped and turned to the smaller medic. "She tried to attack you, and you're going to look for her?" the other mech's face was carefully impassive.

The medic-in-training scowled. "She's my friend. I'm sure she didn't _mean_ to."

There was silence, and then the mech continued to walk and Ratchet struggled to keep up with his longer stride. "Well, that's not what most people say," he said with a scowl. He shook his head, turning to the right and entering what Ratchet recognized as the cafeteria. Strong red hands pushed him into a seat and shoved a cube of energon toward him with a smaller one for Cop. "Now tell me everything that happened. With Russ, the little details count."

Ratchet recited his story slowly, trying to remember as much as he could. Every once in a while, the strange mech – who had yet to introduce himself – would interrupt with a question that sounded strange to Ratchet. What color were her optics? Were her spine-spikes up? Did she have a tail? How far were her claws extended? Did she make any noise? He answered them as well as he was able to, and was somewhat relieved when the other mech sat back with a low sigh.

"I know where she's at." He said at last. "It's not gonna be pretty, though." He must've seen something in Ratchet's stubborn glare for he stood up. "C'mon, then. Let's hope Ranthanoss doesn't tear us both apart."

* * *

The door they entered was a balcony that overlooked the training room, if the arena and weapons rack – filled with practice weapons to Ratchet's inexperienced optic – with thin metal beams jutting across the expanse. Looking up, he realized that there were probably fifty or so layers of such beams, spaced seemingly at random. It was movement on one such beam that caught his attention: Russet was walking along one such beam as if it were as wide as a catwalk. Her tail swung behind her, movements calculated. In her clawed hands, a pair of glittering energy blades twisted as drones whistled around her.

Ignoring them, Russet crouched suddenly and leapt into the air, slicing cleanly through a drone before flipping to land on another beam, flicking a blade into another drone. She leapt after her blade, angling her body until it was perpendicular to the floor before twisting, tail lashing; she snatched the blade from the falling drone and landed neatly on another beam, blades flashing once more.

The strange mech pressed a button near the railing. "Simulation: off." The drones buzzed away, panels opening in the wall to allow them through before sliding shut once more. Russet stopped on a bar, back facing them.

"What do you want?" she snarled, voice a good octave deeper than usual.

"Ranthanoss, we want to talk."

Russet/Ranthanoss scoffed, turning slightly to cast a glance down at them. "About what? How Russet can't stand fact that nearly killed one of first friends? How was close to being killed by Brute in menagerie? Assure you that there is nothing to talk about."

"What about you?" the mech asked.

"What _about_ me?"

The mech continued as if Ranthanoss hadn't spoken. "What if we wanted to talk about you?"

The Cybertronian on the bar gave a low bark of derisive laughter. "Talk about _me_? What is to say? Am only Russet's Dragon-side. Am true monster that dwells within crevices of her mind." Ratchet shivered at that, the low voice and the way his friend spoke. Pale gold optics swung and trained on him. Silver-gray lips peeled back to reveal ivory-white dental plates, sharpened into deadly fanged points. "_Should_ be scared. After all done…"

"Ranthanoss, enough."

Ranthanoss swung his/her head to the side, crouching on the beam, tail swinging almost idly. "Is really, Ironhide?" his/her lips peeled back once more, offering Ironhide and Ratchet a fanged grin. "Is so easy, strength I have." Armored limbs rose, hands opening and closing. "Ability to _move_, more than had. Can speak, can climb, can smile, dance, interact with others who not my kind, and most of all, can _fight_." The fanged grin widened into a predatory smile. "Power have… have thumbs and fingers, can grip things, and still use same strength as other self. Killing you – anyone in building –be easy task."

Cop in Ratchet's arms gave a low cry, fluttering his wings limply while twisting his long tail feathers. Ratchet himself took a step back, feeling as if the world was spinning out of control.

But Ranthanoss jerked his/her head and the predatory grin faded quickly from the silver features. The almost-conical spines on his/her helmet clicked and lowered slightly and their back-spines clattered as they lowered quickly. Their arms lowered and gripped the bar as they crouched, energy knives disappearing into subspace. "But can play nice," Ranthanoss rumbled, tilting his/her head to the side like a pet being stroked. "Do not make Russet sad and making Russet sad make me sad." He made an odd sound like a deep rumbling purr.

Ironhide didn't look fazed. "Come down here and let us speak with Russet."

Ranthanoss' relaxed pose immediately took an aggressive edge, opening his jaws to reveal his fanged dental plates once more. "Russet not want to speak with you, Red One."

"Then who _will_ she speak to?" Ironhide demanded. "This rampage has _got_ to stop, Ranthanoss. Between you and Rykenta you're becoming monsters. No one would want to have anything to do with you, you'd probably by arrested for doing what you've done."

There were low clicks as Ranthanoss crawled along the bar, an almost angry-nervous gesture. "Should have died six stellar cycles ago." He snarled, tail lashing. "Leave, Ironhide. Not make us force you."

Ironhide shook his head and motioned to Ratchet. "Let's go before we test Russet's leash."

The conical spines on his helm cracked as they snapped downwards in an angry gesture. Silver lips peeled away from pale fangs in warning, an animal's fierce snarl rumbling through the deep chest. Feeling a strange sense of reluctance, Ratchet followed Ironhide out the door, Cop clattering and chattering in irritation. The medic-in-training turned his head as the door slid shut behind them, pausing when he noticed Russet/Ranthanoss crouched on the railing of the balcony, head in his/her clawed hands.

The mech called Ironhide clomped down the halls, talking to Ratchet (or meaning to) about how he'd have to report to Sentinel Prime, then Serenade, and get him back to Serenade's "lair" so they wouldn't worry that Siren had spazzed again and shot him… Cop gave a low _chrr_ as Ratchet backed up against the wall, turning to stare at the keypad to the door.

The offending metal slid away and Ratchet slipped back into the room, sighing when the door slid shut securely behind him. Carefully and ever-mindful of his injuries, he put Cop down on a seat nearby and walked over to the balcony railing. He found Russet nearly a story higher, stretched out (somehow) on her back on a flat bar. Taking a deep breath he climbed carefully over the railing and put a large foot on the first flat bar.

It didn't so much as groan, and breathing a quick sigh of relief, he swung his other foot over to rest in front of the first; he stood slowly, hands holding the railing tightly. From there he looked for another bar. To his left was a ladder – perhaps a maintenance ladder – and he edged toward it slowly. There was a gap of more than a body-length between him and the ladder, but he noted that there was a bar within reach that he could step on.

Carefully Ratchet stretched his leg out and managed to touch the bar but little more; to reach it he'd have to lean over the expanse. Taking a shaky breath with one hand on the railing, he leaned out, breathing a soft sigh when his foot hit the bar and stayed. Moving his arms, he pulled himself on to the other bar, pausing for a moment to soothe his rattled nerves. He did _not_ like heights. Now came the hard part: the ladder was around the curve of the balcony, nearly out of his reach. He'd have to jump across to the next bar and hope he could stumble toward the ladder instead of straight over the edge.

_Why am I doing this?_ he thought wildly, feeling his arms begin to shake and seize. _Is Russet really worth it?_ Ratchet looked up at his friend who had jumped up another story and sat on a platform, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

He thought back to all the memories he shared with the strange femme. He remembered how they met, how she continued to defend them from bullies and Upper Cut, how she laughed when Wheeljack told her stories about his siblings, how she debated with him on medical concepts they had just learned, and how she did her best to get on Percy's good side. He remembered the play of emotions on her face when they were visible; how her back spines and conical "horns" on her head shifted with her emotions, how her claws and hands moved as she spoke.

_I've gotten this far,_ Ratchet thought, pursing his lips. _I can make a little jump like that._ Before his logic center could argue against it, he jumped, trying to twist so he'd fall toward the ladder. Of course he'd miss. Swearing to himself, he found that he had jumped too far, foot slipping on the far edge of the rectangular bar. He fell backwards and plummeted, limbs flailing.

Clawed hands wrapped around his arms and he jerked to a stop, having dropped only a few levels of bars. He looked up into the tense golden optics of his friend. As easily as she would have picked up a piece of metal she lifted him on to the bar she crouched on, looking him over warily. When she tried to let go of him, he gripped her shoulders. "I'm afraid of heights, you idiot." He hiss-snarled and there was a lurch as Russet swung back on her flat heels.

Then Russet smiled, her careful close-lipped smile that didn't reveal her ivory fangs. "So am I." Ratchet was startled at the admission and said so. Another tight smile. "This is more Ranthanoss' area than mine. He handles the fighting, mostly."

Ratchet's mouth opened and closed and he teetered; his shift in balance reminded him exactly where they were. "Uh, can we go…you know…to solid ground?"

Russet gave a low, tense chuckled. "Sure." Easily she swung him on her back and for a split second before he hit her spiked back plating he was worried that his chest and abdominal armor would be gouged by those razor-sharp triangular spikes. But as he was preparing for the pain and the sound of tearing metal, his chest and stomach clicked against her back. Looking down slightly, he found that her spines were flat against her back, nearly invisible within their slit-like grooves. When she turned her head to look at him, her optics were pale gold.

Ranthanoss smiled at him. "Hang on." He crouched and sprang upwards as if Ratchet weighed no more than her bag pack. He easily caught the next bar, claws curling around the oddly-shaped metal. Ratchet felt the powerful tail swing and for a sickening second he was parallel to the ground and then Ranthanoss pulled them easily on to the bar, landing gin a crouch.

It was strange to Ratchet, to feel the effortlessness of the Pit-Dragon's movements, the steely grace beneath the frame he clutched. Armor shifted and they crouched once more; Ranthanoss leapt up and caught a thinner, circular bar. Trepidation crept and shivered through Ratchet's system as the pole rang when Ranthanoss' armored hands slipped against it. "Hang tight, now." The octave-deeper voice rumbled, sounding amused. The plates against his stomach plating rumbled with the sound but Ratchet ignored it in favor of wrapping his arms tighter around his friend.

They swung for a moment, and once more Ratchet felt himself become parallel to the floor then a sickening lurch as they swung back. With an acrobat's grace, Ranthanoss swung his tail and lower half and they swung back down. At the last moment he let go, and Ratchet gave a low whimper as they arced through the air.

Looking up, Ratchet could see the floor – so far below them! – leap away. Looking at what he perceived as "down," he saw the metal bar approaching. Ranthanoss grabbed it with his arms and pulled his tail down, landing so that his tail made a cross with the metal bar.

The conical "horns" near Ratchet's head twitched slightly and the medic-in-training could feel the tail swinging idly to keep them both balanced on the thin bar. "Do you always do this?" he managed to squeak, seeing that they were slowly headed toward the balcony.

"Sometimes. When Russet allows." Was the transparently honest answer. "Haven't since enrolled in Academy. Missed it."

With an easy hop they were both over the railing of the balcony. "Why not?" Ratchet carefully unlocked his death-like grip on his friend and dropped to the ground. Clawed hands caught him when his legs shook and gently sat him down in a seat near Cop.

"No place to." Was the reply. "No time to. Russ always studying."

Ratchet looked up at Ranthanoss in Russet's body. He stood with his legs braced, hands and arms at his sides, very much unlike Russet who always appeared relaxed in her posture. Seeing this, Ratchet was forced to come to grips that this wasn't his friend but rather an entirely other entity who was _in_ his friend. "So…" he said lamely, unsure of what more to say. Ranthanoss inclined his head slightly and Ratchet found himself laughing almost hysterically.

To his credit Ranthanoss did nothing but roll his optic lenses and snort. "I'm sorry," Ratchet apologized when his bout of laughter was nearly over. "It's just…a lot to take in."

Ranthanoss snorted again. "Russ said you strange. She right." Ratchet found himself laughing again and shaking his head, Ranthanoss leaned against the wall, one hand propped on his hip. Before long his optics darkened and Russet began to chuckle, and then laugh along with him.

* * *

Bomb Tech was excited, flitting around his rather messy desk like the twitchy marsh flitter Russet gave him three solar cycles ago. "Sit down, sit down quickly class." He told them, his face alight with sparkling-like glee. "We have a special guest today!"

Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor traded glances. A guest? That was a surprise.

"Where's Russ?" Wheeljack asked, noticing the absence of their larger friend.

The white and red mech shrugged as he sat at his lab bench. "No idea. She wasn't in her quarters this morning." Percy said nothing, though they could feel his distaste for the strong femme.

The class murmured in excitement as Bomb Tech asked them to please be quiet and stop their work. "We have a very special guest today. Well, actually two guests today." He twittered, flitting around his desk eagerly. "The first is a medic at the Iacon Complex and the second is a head scientist and engineer for the Complex, and both have graciously volunteered to speak with us." Wheeljack and Ratchet exchanged glances. Russet and Gold worked at the Complex. Bomb Tech looked around. "Where's Russet?"

Ratchet shook his head. "We haven't seen her since last night."

Anything else their instructor was about to say was interrupted as there was a soft knock on the door. Bomb Tech almost literally skipped to the door and pulled it open. "Welcome, welcome!"

The mech that walked in was mostly unfamiliar, but Ratchet was positive that he had seen the mech before. A fleeting glance perhaps, he concluded. In his arms he held a good-sized crate while a slender femme followed, clicking notes on her data-pad. "Hello," she said warmly, holding out a hand for Bomb Tech to shake. "You must be Bomb Tech."

"I am, I am." Their professor chirped, shaking her hand cheerily.

The femme smiled. "My name is Flux Core, but you can call me Flux if you want." She gestured to the large mech behind her. "This is my guardian Forge." Her smile wavered slightly. "Serenade – my colleague – will be a little late. Something…came up." She motioned to the crate that Forge carried. "Where shall we put this?"

Immediately Bomb Tech nearly fell over himself to clear a portion of his desk for Forge – and the amused Flux Core – to place the crate. "Will your colleague be coming? It's all right if he can't make it."

Flux waved a hand. "Serenade really wanted to be here. I doubt an injury will prevent him from coming for very long." She hesitated. "I was also asked to deliver a note to you from Sentinel." She dug in the crate and produced another data-pad which she handed to Bomb Tech. "He apologizes that Russet was unable to be here. Her and her sister were injured and are at the Complex being treated."

Bomb Tech looked worried. "Are they all right?"

Forge gave a low, rumbling chuckle. "They'll be fine. They've taken worse hits."

Flux smiled. "Shall we get on with this class, or what?" she asked, clapping her hands.

* * *

Serenade had indeed showed up in the middle of the class, and the three in the class that knew him could tell that he was exhausted. Even so, he forced cheer into his words as he spoke of his job and training as a medic, especially one working in the Iacon Complex. When the class was over, Serenade slumped against the wall, smiling weakly at Ratchet as he approached. "'Ey, Ratchet. Nice t' see ya."

"Serenade." Ratchet nodded politely in reply. He paused, hesitating. "Russet's hurt?"

The mech sighed, allowing his weariness to show. "She's fine, bu' Gold's refused t' leave 'er side since an' Rykenta only lets me int' th' room." He gave a weak smile. "Ah go' 'er stabilized 'fore Ah came 'ere, an' made sure tha' Gold knows wha' t' d' if somethin' happens when Ah'm gone."

"How did she get hurt?" Wheeljack asked, shifting anxiously.

Flux Core and Forge looked up warily, but said and did nothing when Serenade waved them off. "Illegal drug an' weapons bust. Their assistance was needed by th' regul'r enforcers. Ah don' know th' sp'cifics, though." He paused and pulled out three tags from subspace. "Y' better ge' t' yer next classes now. Y' c'n come an' visit them later if y' like. Sentinel an' Gold asked me t' give these t' y' anyway."

The three stared at the passes for a long moment before finally taking them, optics full of awe. "Can you guys direct us to room A156?" Flux Core asked as they took the passes. "We have another class while Serenade goes back to the Complex."

Perceptor shifted. "We're going that way. Shall we walk with you?"

Flux Core smiled and Ratchet rolled his optic lenses to Wheeljack at Perceptor's obvious fixation with the femme engineer. "Sure." Wheeljack looked up at Forge to find that the massive mech was rolling his optic lenses as well.

Ratchet coughed pointedly. "Shall we go, then?"

* * *


	8. Complications

**Hey. Long time no sea.**

**Notes:  
-Narzenim (the girl who's sort-of narrating the story) isn't human, so don't really assume she is one and get all confused when it talks about her ears and her tail...  
-The point of view will only change once: I was trying to convey more emotion by having her "problem" said through her and Ran's point of view. However, I think it was pretty hard to do, so I'll go back to a 3rd person point of view. :3**

**_WARNING: USES THE WORD 'WHORE' A LOT!!!_**

_

* * *

_

Present day

…

I frowned, reviewing the neat lines of data chips. Each was meticulously labeled, numbered neatly. I spun the last 'chip I had used in my hand, feeling the smooth surfaces against the rough palm of my hand, tail twitching behind me. At last I placed the 'chip with the others I had finished, nudging it into line with a finger as I thought.

Over the past few months (three months, twenty days, two hours, and forty minutes as Fegali helpfully told me) I had been over four data chips, reading into the thoughts of a person – more of a Mother-figure, really – I had respected more than anything or anyone else. The thought that I may have already messed up in remembering her made my fur stand on end.

Once more I looked over the data chips, forcing myself into a state of calmness and though my fur (for the most part) lowered, my tail continued to lash, easily twice the size it had originally been. Taking a deep breath, I stood up and searched her quarters methodically. The missing data chips were nowhere to be found so with a huff is at down once more, glaring at the remaining chips as if they would produce answers for me. But, of course, they didn't.

"Is something wrong?" I jumped, ears twitching in embarrassment. I turned to Fegali and gave a small smile as he patted my head gently as one would pet a cat. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you."

I smiled quickly at him. "It's all right, 'Gali." I motioned to the stacks of chips. "I was…preoccupied." I explained quickly what I was doing as well as my problems with the job regarding the chips while Fegali listened intently. "And I can't find those missing chips!"

Fegali scratched his chin, such a purely human gesture that I had to stifle a chuckle. "Perhaps it is not hidden?" he motioned to the stacks of cubes. "Perhaps she merely got rid of them and didn't switch the numbers? You _did_ say that she had quite a few empty chips." He pointed out.

My head it the desk with a dull _thunk_. Why didn't I think of that? My guardian gave a low chuckle and patted my back, scratching my mane gently and I found myself purring and relaxing slowly. Hands on auto-pilot, I found the next chip – number thirteen – and plugged it into the data-pad and read.

Fegali, who was looking over my shoulder, voiced a thoughtful rumble. "It sounds like a difficult part to write." He commented.

My tail twitched in agreement. I thought hard, tapping my stylus against my cheek as I did so. _Sometimes you have abilities that others don't,_ Mother had told me once as we read reports late one night. _Sometimes these abilities allow you to do things that others are unable to appreciate. It's times like these that you can't always rely on the traditional method of writing reports._ She had tilted the data-pad in her hand down and I looked at the first-perspective reports written by Gold, Firebird, and Jumper. _When that happens, when you write – or read – one such report, keep an open mind. Little details picked up by others with special skills could spell victory or defeat._

With a slow smile, I began to write.

* * *

Ranthanoss was angry. I could feel him in my mind, feel his presence and anger down to the tips of my claws. But he wasn't angry at me. I could be glad for such small miracles. No, Ranthanoss was angry at _him_. That slag-sucking creation of a half-assembled refugee.

Duly reminded, Ranthanoss snarled, the sound deep and echoing through my chest and body. _Now what?_ He asked, voice a snarl. I knew his anger wasn't directed at me; it never was and never would be.

I ran a clawed hand along my abdomen, feeling the gentle pulsing of the life beneath the two layers of armor. My optics slid shut of their own accord and I slipped easily into what Gold and I called our Spark Trance. Ranthanoss's spark rumbled and pulsed gently, and I felt my own, the wellspring of my life. There was a third. It was tiny and it fluttered like a welder's light but it had its own beat. It shivered and shuddered, but only Ranthanoss and I would ever know what song it danced to.

I drifted out of my Spark Trance after lightly brushing the hunting spark, optics clicking online. _We begin building._

Ranthanoss paced. _No hunting?_

Mentally I stroked his spines. _No. If we see...if…_ I choked up and forced myself to continue. _If we ever see _him_ again, you can kill him._

The Pit-Dragon snarled, tail lashing. _With pleasure._

Am I a monster for wishing death upon him? If so, I do not care any more. He is a worse monster, a prostitute barely worth the time of Ranthanoss's claws. _As it is, there is no time right now._ I said slowly, reluctantly. _We must start building._

* * *

Ratchet watched me in our class, trying to be sly about his glances. Of course I was aware of him –very much so – but ignored him regardless. My work required a lot of concentration.

"I haven't seen Sky Dance around lately."

Ran's spines jerked upward sharply at the offhanded comment, startling Ratchet and the students sitting behind us. We said nothing and I continued to work. A red hand covered (or tried to) my wrist and I stopped when the fingers which I could break so easily (I felt vaguely sick at that thought) tightened against the seam of armor. Of course, even if he squeezed as hard as he could, he wouldn't hurt me or Ranthanoss in the least.

The thought depressed me.

"Russ," I met his caring optics with my own harsh ones. "Are you all right?"

My gaze dropped to the interplay of bright scarlet fingers over dull russet armor. A medic's hands on a monster's arm. We said nothing and Ratchet sighed.

"Russ," he said again, voice dropping to a whisper. "If there was something wrong…would you tell me?"

I could feel Ranthanoss in the crevices of my mind. _Can we trust him?_

_He is _not_ Sky Dance._ I snapped back. My gaze rose to his blue optics. "I would…eventually."

Ratchet sighed, vents hissing. I breathed in his scent: soft, smooth and caring. Unlike everything I had ever known, even Gold and Sentinel and Serenade. Ran and I could smell his frustration even as we smelled the bitter scent of worry. I gave him a soft, sad smile in apology. He sighed again. "I suppose that's all I can ask." He said reluctantly.

Am I a monster? I just wished the mech I loved – _had_ loved – to death. I agreed to allow Ranthanoss to kill him if we ever saw him again. I had just lied to my first – and best – friend.

More than anything, I wanted to die then and there.

* * *

"There is something wrong with Russet."

I paused at the voice, shivering into my blanket of invisibility out of instinct.

"I'm sure she's fine," Wheeljack replied distractedly. I could smell him and Ratchet, the former covered with a corona of ash and smoke and the latter in the heavy scent of injury and hospitals and spilled fluid. I was used to both: Wheeljack was always tinkering with explosive compounds, and Ratchet was an intern at the Iacon Complex under the tutoring of Serenade.

Ratchet huffed, and I could tell that he had just come off of a long shift. He wanted nothing more than to sink into the tub in the bathing room. I made a mental note to turn the hot oil on before this conversation was over. "Come on, Jack, surely you've noticed?"

There was a low click as Wheeljack put down his tweezers, giving Ratchet his full attention. "Noticed what, Ratchet? Russet has always acted strange."

"Have you seen Sky Dance around?" I stifled Ranthanoss's seething anger and his urge to snap our back spines. It would give us away.

A pause. "No…" Wheeljack may have been catching on by now. He had always been just a _little_ slow. Science was his forte, not gossip or society. "I haven't seen him since ten days ago. But he could just be away…" We could all tell that he didn't even believe it himself.

"He used to come every day." Ratchet pointed out. "He never went away and if he did, Russet went with him."

Ranthanoss grumbled. _Are we just going to let them speak about us like this?_ He was angry again.

I ran a hand along our abdominal armor, feeling the sudden tightness in the layers. _Yes._

My Pit-Dragon side – who was as much a friend of mine as Ratchet and Wheeljack – was silent for a moment, startled. I felt his presence migrate down my body until he circled protectively above my abdomen. For the first time in a while, I allowed a smile to grace my face.

I turned and walked away toward the bathing room where I turned on the taps for the hot oil. It was rare for Academy students to have enough money for a decent-sized apartment, even with roommates. Thankfully my job at the Complex paid well enough and I had some pretty decent contacts that allowed us to have a discounted price at a nice-sized house near the Academy. With three rooms, a large, separate bathing room, a kitchen, and a small area to eat, it was much more than many other students could boast of.

I loved the apartment, and Ranthanoss did too. It was the closest thing we've ever had to a home.

The dark oil sloshed into the bathing pit and I leaned against the wall, watching the shadowy liquid. I heard Ratchet walk in, ignoring him in favor of watching the oil roar into the pit. "You heard, didn't you?"

"We did."

A sigh. "How much?"

"Enough to know you're tired." The pit was full now, and I turned off the spigot, watching the steam twist and curl up before meeting Ratchet's optics. "Relax. I'll be in my room."

I slipped out of the bathing room, being sure to close the door behind me. My little prowler fluttered in my abdomen and I smiled once more, slipping into my room where I closed and locked the door. My awareness spread and it was as if Ranthanoss stood in the room with me. The Pit-Dragon nudged me with a ghostly nose, and I reached into the hidden compartment beneath my bunk, pulling out the limp form of a sparkling.

When Ratchet returned after his bath, I heard him enter. He was the only one who knew the codes to my room, and the only one I allowed in when my door had previously been locked. I did not like people to sneak up on me, and no one else in our shared house dared attempt what Ratchet did on a regular basis.

"_That's_ your problem." The spines along my back shivered and Ranthanoss rumbled protectively within me, his presence pooling within my abdomen. A gentle hand touched our shoulder, and I fought the urge (Ran's urge) to knock his hand off and claw his face off. The medic's hands remained on my shoulder and I stopped my work on the sparkling's elbow joint.

"It's not a _problem_."

Ratchet sighed and moved to sit at the unused chair beside the desk; I preferred to stand. "For you it could be." A snarl bubbled in my throat and I tossed my head, putting down my tools for the moment. My friend sighed again. "Russ, no one who's carrying ever finishes their classes; sparklings take up too much of their time."

I swung my head to look at him with flat gold optics. I had squashed Ran's urge to come to the front of my cortex and take control, something I have rarely ever done. "We're nearly done." I told him. "We graduate in twelve solar cycles, and Ran says that we're able to carry the sparkling more than that."

"And what will you do, Russ?" he demanded, so passionately angry that we were momentarily stunned. "Will you be a single mother trying to raise this sparkling? You can't _possibly_ do what you do if you're welded to the hip of a youngling. Do you even know who the father is?"

This time I couldn't stop the feral snarl that shivered so deeply in my throat and so violently that my armor rattled. Ratchet wasn't afraid; he knew that I'd never hurt him, but that didn't stop the flash of fear that shone quickly on his face before disappearing. "The father of my child will never see him. If he dares show his face to me and Ranthanoss, he will die."

A flash of astonishment crossed his face, followed by sudden understanding. "It's Sky Dance, isn't it?" It was hardly a question.

I said nothing for a long while. "We were stupid," I whispered at last, sitting down on my berth and drawing my knees close. "Foolish beyond compare, and now we pay the price for it."

Ratchet sighed and shook his head, standing carefully and walking over. "You're not foolish, Russ. Neither is Ran." He placed a hand on my arm, pausing when my armor shivered. "But even so, you can't do this alone."

My armor shivered again. "I can _try_." I croaked, the closest I've ever been to crying my entire short life. I shook my head when he opened his mouth. "I can't tell anyone, Ratch! I'm not a _street whore_ that creates sparklings at my fancy!"

I had known a few whores. They were nice, but a little over the top if I was one to judge. The only thing I didn't like about them was their job, but I was hardly one to talk, having been working for Keel Haul at the time. Their job was a risky one, more so in a sense than ours. To give themselves up completely to their "clients," to willingly allow that form of degradation merely for the pleasure of their "client" was the ultimate risk.

I remembered our job all too clearly. Too many times Keel Haul had sent us out to make sure that his whores were doing their jobs correctly and that they were safe. The oldest – and apparently most talented – had been a femme just barely two vorns old. We all called her Creator, for she was the sweetest and most caring of all the whores in Keel Haul's "supply." She was murdered by a client, torn apart bit by bit in searing agony. I had never been so angry in my entire life.

She had been carrying, just like ten more that I could remember when they died. Once they were carrying, they refused to work. Or did Keel Haul fire them? He could not have, I knew, for why would he fire a perfectly good whore when he could have their sparklings ripped from their torsos and crushed?

Ranthanoss snarled at the memory, a sound only meant for me to hear. Gold and I didn't participate in the sparkling killings. Keel Haul knew that we were femmes, and as femmes we were fiercely protective of sparklings and younglings in general. There was always a great amount of wailing that went on when a whore had their sparkling destroyed before her optics. It was a much better way to crush their hopes and dreams than anything Keel Haul had ever done. They were far more submissive after their sparkling died.

Ratchet's hands moved from my shoulder to my arm, fingers digging into the joints insistently. "You're not…you're not a whore, Russ." He said softly.

Anything I was about to say was interrupted when my comm. unit beeped. _'Communications Officer Encore to Enforcer Russet, come in please, over.'_

"Enforcer Russet here, over."

"Oh no you're not, Russ!" Ratchet hissed, slapping my shoulder. "You're frakking _carrying!_"

'_I'm sorry, Enforcer Russet, I know that you're off-duty now, but we need relief aid now, over.'_ Communications Officer Encore told me, sounding honestly apologetic.

"It's all right, Communications Officer Encore. What are the reports, over?" I stood and began cleaning my desk, ignoring the insistent tugging (for that's all it felt like to me) on my arm.

'_There's a tremor in Kalis. Are you able to provide relief aid, over?'_

"Affirmative, Communications Officer Encore. Enforcer Russet out." I stood and placed the sparkling shell in its compartment beneath my berth. "Relax, Ratchet, it's only a relief mission." I told him, making sure my armor was secured. Ranthanoss rumbled excitedly within me. "Nothing too bad." I smiled quickly at him and raced out the door. "Make sure you lock the door! Don't wait up for me!" I called over my shoulder as I ran out through the halls and out the door.

My feet made solid _clunk_s and I loped along in a familiar rhythm until I passed the gates of Iacon. There in the shadows I transformed in mid-stride, easily moving from the two perspectives and continuing my lope.

I saw Kalis in the distance, not a particularly far distance from Iacon and my home. If the Pit-Dragon's mouth was capable of doing so, I would have smiled. It was nice to have a place to call 'home' and friends to call 'family.' I doubled my pace. I didn't want to be home _too_ late.


	9. Trouble in Kalis: part I

**_READ BOTTOM NOTES!!!_**

* * *

He couldn't say for sure what woke him or why he felt so, but he had felt a sudden pang of hunger through his fuel tank. So, tiredly, he roused himself from his rather achy recharge – that was the _last_ time he'd slip into recharge at his desk, that's for sure – and shuffled out the door. The door in the kitchen-dining area flashed brightly in his optics, and for a moment he closed them to allow the lenses to get used to the glare. When he opened them, he stumbled backwards in shock.

The kitchen area was awash with spilled fluids, the glow slowly fading, which was why he hadn't noticed them. Carefully he edged around the pools, looking around. There was nothing taken, and Percy and Wheeljack had gone to their recharge cycles long ago while he had stayed up to wait for Russet. They couldn't be injured, and the windows were still whole. However…the locking mechanism beside the door was slightly dented as if a large spherical object had nudged it just a little too hard.

Ratchet relaxed for a moment before fritzing. Russet was home, but she was covered in fluids. Whether they were her own or another's was something to be discovered. If they were hers, then she'd be seriously damaged.

Regardless, he'd go and check up on her. Turning (and forgetting about his Energon), he followed the dimly-glowing trail. He didn't know how he managed to not notice it before, as it drifted past his room on the route he had taken to the kitchen. Predictably, it went straight to Russet's room, and he could see places where she had stumbled, fallen, and slipped: the fluid mimicked her movements, drawing fuchsia streaks along the walls and floors.

A large blade of shrapnel covered in fluids made him stop in shock. He doubled his pace, skidding to a halt in front of her door and barging in. His friend was sprawled out on the ground, tail and limbs limp.

"Russ," he breathed, running to her side and gently flipping her over.

Golden optics flickered online. "Ratch?"

"Pit, what happened to you?" her chest and belly were torn, and there were some punctures on her upper torso.

"Kalis. Relief mission." She murmured weakly and she gave a low moan of pain. "Building…fell on us."

"Primus," Ratchet breathed, looking over her injuries. "Russ, can you stand up?"

"If I could…would I be…on the ground?"

In spite of himself, Ratchet felt his lips twitch. "If you're well enough to snark back at me, you must be fine." He teased, voice sounding flat even to him. Carefully (and using all of his strength for her armor and her body weighed quite a bit) he heaved her gently onto the berth, watching as her optics offlined and her tail disappeared. "I'll be right back, Russ, okay?"

Without waiting for a reply, he ran out of the room, ignoring the fuchsia splatters of fluid along his chest and body. It was a quick trip to his room, for it was almost directly across from hers. It was nearly as quick for him to gather his tools a rag, and a few materials before spinning around and racing back out.

When he got back, he found his patient's optics on low power, flickering dully in the dusty darkness of her room. He turned the lights on to a low setting – knowing that her optics were sensitive to bright lights – and placed his tools on a small trolley that Russ had in her room for reasons known only to her.

"Tell me exactly what happened." He ordered, peering at her injuries.

Russet's circulatory and cooling system were working in overdrive, unusually so even for her. More bright fluid was trickling from her wounds, a worrisome occurrence. "Planetary tremor…" Russet's voice was a low whisper, and Ratchet could tell that she was in pain. "Buildings…collapsing. Found an orphanage." her mouth was open now, and Ratchet could hear her air filters similar to the lung-apparatus of a Pit-Dragon sucking in cool air to cool her overheating systems. "Began evacuations…foundation cracked and fell on us."

Ratchet shook his head, beginning to panic. "I can hardly see your wounds."

"My armor…blocking…" she drifted off, optics flickering dully.

"No, I just can't see them!"

"Clasps…outer armor…" her arm flopped toward her side, and there was a low click as her clawed hands undid the hidden catches along her sides.

"You have an outer layer of armor?" Ratchet breathed, batting her hand aside and deftly finding and opening all the catches in her outer armor.

"Evidently." Her voice was weaker now, and as he peeled away the fluid-covered and torn armor, he found the much more deadly wounds in the almost protoform-like armor. Now able to see the wounds, he got to work quickly.

* * *

It took hours and an all-nighter, but Ratchet was finally able to close all of Russet's wounds and clean up all the spilled fluid in the halls and kitchen. He was just washing his hands and about to get a cube of Energon when Wheeljack and Perceptor walked in, turning on the news vid.

"Try listen to this, Ratch," Wheeljack said grimly, motioning to the vid.

A wide-optic'ed femme stared at the camera, Kalis accent thick in her vocalizer. _"Praimuhs, it wahs _huge_!"_ she gesticulated sharply and Ratchet noticed that her hands were stained fuchsia with fluids. _"When' raight ohva mai fence an' raight down tha street!_"

"Oh," Jack murmured as the vid turned off. "Missed it. My bad." He rewound the vid and played it again.

"_Reports have been spilling in since sunrise of a massive creature hunting in Kalis."_ The reporter said and Ratchet's fuel tank sank. _"It has been described as a monster, though what it is exactly is unknown._" The footage changed to the ruins of Kalis. _"After the planetary tremor in Kalis and the relief efforts there, two deaths have been reported by refugees, and each was maimed by a strange creature. There have been very few sightings of such a creature, but a forensic artist was able to create a holo-vid of what witnesses say the creature appeared like."_

Ratchet's vents sucked in as the freakish form of a snarling Pit-Dragon appeared in the vid. Mercifully, Wheeljack stopped the vid. "They're suggesting that no one heads to Kalis."

Perceptor's optics bored into his. "Where is Russet?"

The medic-in-training shook his head. "She went to help the relief efforts in Kalis." He told them, feeling a sinking feeling in his innards, as if he were condemning his friend to death. "Iacon Complex called her in."

The scientist's optics narrowed and Ratchet was reminded sourly that for one reason or another, Perceptor hated Russet. "When will she be back?"

"She's in her room in recharge. She's exhausted."

"And you know this _how?_" Percy sneered.

"I assume that he knows this because he helped her." They all whirled to find the tiny form of Flux Core sitting on the counter, kicking her slender legs. Forge was barely visible through the door, as ever near to his charge. "Poor thing was exhausted from all the work she did. And who can blame her? Holding up an entire building from falling?"

The students all stared in shock. "She _what_?"

The finicky femme nodded, flipping her hand. "Saved thirty younglings when an orphanage fell." She nodded to Forge. "We just came by to check up on her. She looked a little sick when she finally left."

Ratchet nodded. "She's fine. I checked up on her earlier."

Flux Core gave him a smile. "All right. Thanks." And with that they were gone as suddenly as they had come.

Shaking their heads, the students set about their day.

* * *

When Ratchet returned to Russet's room, he found Ranthanoss awake. "Hey."

Pale gold optics flashed to him for a moment. A low rumble answered him, but Ratchet knew by now that it wasn't a growl.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like hit with compactor." Was the stilted reply.

The medic-in-training gave a bark of dry laughter. "I don't blame you. You guys had some pretty bad injuries."

Silence from the Pit-Dragon. "There were murders last night." Ranthanoss said nothing. "They think it was done by a Pit-Dragon."

"Possibly." Ranthanoss agreed. "Kalis has a lot of illegal activity. Illegal trade of wild animals often. Often confiscate from Kalis more than other cities."

Ratchet regarded the Pit-Dragon within the body of his friend. "Percy thinks you did it."

There was silence, and Ranthanoss allowed their head to loll to the side in order to regard him. "What do you think?"

The medic-in-training shook his head. "I don't know what to think anymore."

"Believe that we still killers?" Ranthanoss rumbled, not particularly angry but not exactly happy either. "Were killers once, but was lifetime ago."

"I'm sorry," Ratchet breathed. "It's just…"

"Understand." Ranthanoss interrupted gently. "Hard to shake idea that we killed for living. But as said, is lifetime ago."

Ratchet said nothing for a long while before sitting down beside the berth with a weary sigh. "You guys are more trouble than you're worth," he teased gently.

Ranthanoss gave an approximation of a smile, or so Ratchet thought; it was hard to tell with Ranthanoss. "You have no idea."

* * *

Ratchet looked up at his mentor's voice, pausing in his inventory. "Yeah, Ser?"

The blue and green mech walked over, followed by Flux Core, Forge, the tiny femme called Encore, and a mech who was introduced as Riot. Ratchet had only seen Riot around once, and that was a while ago when Russet was returning from an  
Enforcer mission; they had immediately got to debating even as Serenade repaired Russet's minor injuries. Now meeting the mech officially, Ratchet felt himself shrinking inside. He was _huge_.

_Russet's just as large,_ the rational part of his mind argued weakly. _You don't think _she's_ so scary_.

"How can I help you?" he asked, optics flashing from mech to mech (or femme).

Serenade looked as angry as he ever had, and Ratchet had a sinking feeling in the pit of his fuel tanks. Russet walked in, her steps more like stomps. "Don't you dare," she snarled, baring her fanged dental plates.

"Zerre iz no ozer vay," Riot told her, voice think with what Ratchet vaguely recognized as an accent from Tarn.

"Oh, yes there is, and you're going to find it, and you're going to use it, because I am _not_ allowing my friend to go undercover like this." Russet hissed, stalking further into the room, moving to stand protectively in front of Ratchet who was frozen in place.

"Who better to work with you than Ratchet?" Flux Core asked neutrally while Encore looked uncomfortable. "You already hold him in high regard, and he's been briefed on the nuances of your…ah, bestial nature."

A snarl answered her statement, and Ratchet found that despite himself he was intrigued. "And you're _allowin_g this?"

Serenade winced. "None o' us 'ere has yer contrariness, Russ," he told her bluntly. "Only ye an' yer sist'r c'n resist a d'rect order fro' Sentinel."

The spines along her spine rattled malevolently and Ratchet could hear the low growl building in her chest. Carefully he put a hand on her shoulder and the armor there stilled, something that only happened for him. "What's going on?"

"Ve hahve an inseedent in Kalis," Riot told him, booming voice rising above Russet's low growl. "Ai'm sure you've heard of ze murrderrs zere?"

Ratchet nodded. "Ran–Russet told me that it was probably done by a Pit-Dragon because there's a lot of illegal activity there."

Riot nodded. "Kalis eez iinfamous for ze illegal trazing of ahnimahlz. Ve hahve determined zat ze murrderrs vere committed by a fighting crew. Do zyou know vat zat eez?" Ratchet shook his head.

"In Kalis, there are underground pits where fighting crews use trained animals to fight," Serenade explained grimly. "It's partially where Pit-Dragons got their name: they were originally called Dark Lizards but when pit-fighting became popular, their name changed for they were the most efficient fighters." He flapped a hand. "Anyway, there is usually one mech – or femme," he added, inclining his head toward Flux Core who ignored him. "In charge of a beast, be it Pit-Dragon, cyberwolf, or other creature. These Controllers interact with their beasts via a comm. link or an internal bond between the two which allow the Controller to plot moves while the beast fights."

Riot grunted. "Aye, eez true," he said when Ratchet's optics widened. He nodded at Russet. "Ve hahve Vasset and Gold who can stand in az Peet-Dragonz, but ve're meesing a Contrrollerr."

"And you want me to fill in?" Ratchet asked stiffly.

"Excuse me?" Encore squeaked. She shifted when everyone turned their optics on her. "Replay has asked me to inform you that he has found a suitable pit for Russet to fight in."

Flux Core flicked a hand at the tiny femme. "Send our regards and thanks to him." turning to Ratchet she leaned forward. "Forge and I are already working with Gold, but to uncover the most information we can without endangering our agents, we _need_ both the twins."

"And Vasset von't vork vith anyvone else." Riot pointed out.

Ratchet's gaze slipped to Russet, whose back-spikes were raised stiffly. The words came out of his vocalizer almost of their own accord. "I'll do it."

* * *

"You're angry at me, aren't you?"

Russet didn't look up from her work measuring out protoform armor to her sparkling's shell. "No, just irritated."

Ratchet sighed and sat down in the chair nearby, leaning against the wall as he watched her work. "Why?"

"You're putting yourself in needless danger."

"How so? Russ, I don't know _anything_ that's going on here."

The wild femme put down her tools and turned to face him, towering over him. "I'm fighting in an underground match where anything goes." She told him quietly. "For your sake, we're starting off in a low-level pit fighting arena, but it's just as dangerous as a high-level one. There are drug dealers, whores, and slave traders there, all selling their wares to whoever casts a glance at them." she hesitated. "Do you know how to gamble?"

The medic frowned. "Gamble?" surely Russet knew this was illegal!

As if sensing his thoughts, she shook her head. "In Kalis it's more or less legal. Gambling is popular at pit fights." She paused. "I'll add it to the list of things for you to know."

Ratchet felt a sinking pit in his fuel tanks. "What else do I need to know?"

The femme flicked a claw at him, turning back to her sparkling's frame, inspecting the molds she was making for the finer points of armor. "Gambling, basic knife-fighting, as much street-sense we can cram into your head, information about pit-beasts and their weaknesses, pit-fighting etiquette (if you could call it that), and as much information about pit-fights and being a Controller as we can." She looked at him carefully. "It's not a whole lot of information, actually."

The medic's head dropped, the edge of a chevron tapping the desk. "Primus, what have I gotten myself into?"

Russet gave a bark of derisive laughter in answer.

* * *

**_Notes on diction and syntax:_**

**Flux Core: speaks flippantly, unaccented to the general perspective (like how you would sound to your own ears or how someone would sound with a similar accent)  
Forge: rarely speaks  
Ranthanoss: speaks in generally choppy, stilted sentences. Think Rorschach from _Watchmen  
_Ironhide and Serenade: has accents credited to be from Polyhex. Almost Southern in nature (from an Earthly perspective)  
Encore: speaks with no accent (comm. officers shouldn't have very strong accents)  
Riot: has an accent credited to be from Tarn. Sounds like a cross between French and Russian (from an Earthly perspective)**

**_Other notes:_**

**Okay. I like to have readers who are involved. I don't care that much about reviews (they're nice to get, though), but I _really_ don't like it if an author kills a character that I had particularly liked. So, if anyone ever reads this all the way down to this last note, you'll know that I'm allowing readers to create two characters for this story. They are strictly for the pit-fights that Russet and Ratchet get into, and can be any creature mentioned (turbohawk, marsh flitter (think little fireflies with massive wings, but I don't know why anyone would choose one to fight...), cyberwolf, Pit-Dragon, etc.). If you want to participate, sent me an e-mail or PM. :3 **

**Rules and Choices:**

**Okay, there has to be a few set rules to this, and there are two choices.  
1) First choice is that you can submit a neutral character present in the pit-fight arenas or acting as an agent helping Ratchet and Russ out. For this choice, you can only submit _one_ character, and in submission, you must provide a brief character bio, physical description, name, age, and job in the arena-slash-area.  
2) Second choice sit that you can submit a fighting crew to fight with Russet or in the arenas around her. For this choice, you _must_ submit _two_ characters: one pit-beast, and one mech or femme as a Controller. The pit-beast could be a marsh flitter (see above), turbohawk, cyberwolf, or Pit-Dragon. For submission, you must provide a brief character bio (for the Controller), physical description, name, and age (mostly for the Controller).**

**I'm going to try and give you guys some time to develop your characters (if you're not using ones you already have), so submission dates will be in...shall we say 2 weeks? Submission date will be on May 25. Any submissions after that will _not_ be counted. :3**

**Okie dokie, then. Let's see who actually reads this stuff. :3 Ciao!**


	10. Field Trips and Revelations

Any doubts he had held before his first official lesson held after his Academy classes at the Complex were thrown out the window. The subjects were easy for the most part and with Russet there to take the bite out of the instructor (who was terrified of her), everything went smoothly.

The lessons he looked forward to the most were the ones where he learned more about Ranthanoss and pit-beasts. Their instructor was a mech named Beater who was an animal behaviorist, obviously the best pick for an instructor in this sort of course.

It was also the first time that he got to get a look at Ranthanoss in his true form up close.

* * *

Ratchet knocked on Russet's door one morning before they took the transport to the Academy, hoping that he could take a look at her homework. The door slid open willingly enough and Ratchet's brow ridge rose slightly as he walked into the femme's room. His friend was at her desk once more, inspecting what appeared to be a plex-glass box with metal seams.

"Hey," she said absently, flicking a catch with a claw. It popped open with a click and a hiss of pressurized air, and Ratchet's brown ridge rose even more. "Close the door, please?"

The medic-in-training obeyed carefully, leaning against the wall near the desk as Russet undid the catches of the armor on her chest. "Russ, what are you doing?"

The room was filled with low clicks as the catches released and Russet pulled off her thick outer layer of armor. "I'm making sure my sparkling is safe during our mission." She said absently. Ratchet felt the urge to look away from the thin under-armor of her almost-stocky frame. Their species didn't feel – or have the exact concept of – nudity as many other species of different planets did, but he couldn't help but feel awkward around the femme when she took her outer armor off.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" he drawled, crossing his arms around his chest.

Russet's gaze flashed quickly to him before she flicked a claw at the plex-glass box on her desk. "Spark containment box." She said simply. A wry smile twisted her lips into a sharp slant. "It was Ran's idea, actually."

Ratchet frowned, looking at the small box. "Are you sure it's safe?"

The gold optics flashed to him as Russet finished removing the armor on her upper torso, baring her gunmetal-grey under-armor. "I'm not going to tell you how I know." She said quietly, and Ratchet bit his lip at the reminder. She only said that when speaking of her past as a mercenary. That she said it now meant that either she had seen it used, had made one, or another option that Ratchet hadn't – or didn't want to – consider.

"How far are you?"

"I've carried him for sixteen solar cycles." Russet replied. "He is well enough to survive for a while away from me."

Ratchet's brow ridge rose. "You're sure it's male?"

Russet shrugged, finding the delicate catches in her under-armor and peeling the softer metal away from the wiring of her innards. Ratchet winced. "Positive. Ran and I are very much aware of each other and our body." She paused and ghosted a hand over her armored belly where Ratchet assumed the sparkling rested. "We knew him before my body recognized his existence."

Carefully she peeled away the grey armor and set it on the side with her heaver outer armor, revealing the inner workings of her chest cavity. Her spark glimmered in its casing in the centre of her chest, and just below it over her abdomen was the tiny spark that flickered like the twinkling of the stars, like a dying flame. He thrust a stool at her and obediently the large femme sat, leaning back against the berth.

With shaking hands, he touched the wires twined around the temporary spark casing and there was a low creak as Russet's claws dug into her berth. Ratchet reached out and grabbed the spark containment box, motioning for Russet to hold it near her hip. The femme obeyed, and Ratchet shivered at how obedient she could be. Slowly, carefully, Ratchet eased his fingers around the spark casing, carefully brushing away the clinging wires. Russet held perfectly still until the tiny spark casing was out and the flickering light was ushered into the containment box.

Air hissed as the container shut automatically, and Russet stood, twisting past Ratchet to place it on a stool beside her desk, beside a strange machine that Ratchet hadn't noticed. "This will keep him functioning," she explained without looking at Ratchet. She brushed a hand along the plex-glass case and the spark fluttered like the wings of a marsh flitter, and Russet gave one of her rare smiles.

She turned quickly and began to pull her armor back on. Ratchet assisted her awkwardly. "Let's get to class," she said very quietly, and with a last glance at the glimmering spark, she walked out the door after Ratchet. His reason for coming to his friend's room was forgotten.

* * *

Ratchet poked his head into the room cautiously, giving a relieved smile when he noticed a tall, stocky mech standing near a plex-glass window. He edged in, giving a shy smile when the mech turned to look at him.

"My name is Beater," the mech said in a low baritone, giving a quick smile. "You must be Ratchet."

The medic-in-training gave a mute nod as he got a good look at his instructor. He sputtered, trying not to stare at the scars decorating his instructor's frame. "Y-uh, yes sir."

Beater smiled and beckoned him to the window. "You can stare if you want. You'll have to get used to it." He stood at parade rest, looking as if it was done out of habit rather than conscious thought. "Pit-Dragons and other pit-beasts respect authority, and these are shown through body language and scars." He motioned toward the deep sweeps in his armor, the chips of paint and metal that was lost to massive bite wounds, and the cruel scars twisting his face awkwardly. The door opened and he smiled awkwardly. "I'd like you to meet the two Pit-Dragons you'll be working with in your classes."

Russet walked in, followed closely – and placidly – by another Pit-Dragon whose armor was dirty and graying. It was old. Thick wire was twisted into a harness with a loop around its neck near the base of its skull armor and two smaller loops fastened beneath its jaw which hooked around the cruelly curved horn-spurs beneath its pale green optics. "Hold," she murmured when the old 'Dragon's tail was out of the way of the door. Obediently, the massive creature stopped, giving a low rumble upon seeing Ratchet.

"I assume you know Russet," Beater said with an amused smirk. "This is _my_ partner, Winged Glory." Hearing its name, the Pit-Dragon's head rose and it gave a pleased rumble upon spotting Beater. "Russet, if you please?" the femme nodded and with a low murmur to the 'Dragon, led it back out.

For a long moment, Ratchet stared after them. Beater's voice brought him back to reality.

"Now the first thing you must learn about working with Pit-Dragons is that you must be very careful. Never touch another person's beast unless they or the creature gives you permission." Beater told me, motioning for me to follow him out of the room and down the hall. "I've instructed Russet to act as a true Pit-Dragon would, and how she'd have to act in the pit-fights undercover. You may as well get used to it now."

The door he led Ratchet to slid open, revealing a large sandy arena. Winged Glory ambled delicately along the right-side wall while Ranthanoss lounged on the opposite end, tail swishing and optics half-lidded.

"The first task you must do before we're able to continue any other training with Russet is for you to find the name that would appeal to her. 'Russet' is not that name, believe me." he said wryly. "Each beast has an inner name as well as a common name, but both can be given. The inner name is the one that is chosen by a partner which the beast also agrees upon while the common name is something like 'Russet' or 'Winged Glory' so another cannot extend control over your beast. You must keep this name very secret."

"Why, sir?" Ratchet asked.

"Hearing their inner name, beasts would be compelled to do anything them that calls it asks them to." Was the reply. "This can be dangerous in a pit-fight. Now call her."

Ratchet paused and thought carefully. It would make sense to call for Ranthanoss… "Ranthanoss," he called.

The dark head lifted and pale optics flashed. With a yawn that bared needle-sharp teeth to the world, the Pit-Dragon – easily larger than Winged Victory – stood and ambled over. Beater looked shocked – honestly stunned. "Hold out your hand." He instructed. "Streak," he called and Winged Victory changed course. The mech held out his hand, palm up, and Ratchet copied the motion.

Winged Victory, being closer, came first and the beast (Ratchet wasn't entirely sure what gender it was quite yet) lowered its nose (being careful of its spikes) to the waiting hand. Ranthanoss approached a moment later. He snarled and snapped at the older beast who growled back but moved aside nonetheless. Ranthanoss gave a smug rumble and lowered his head into Ratchet's palm.

"Impressive," Beater noted as Ratchet stroked the dark armor beneath the pale-gold optic. He regarded Ranthanoss for a moment longer before turning to  
Ratchet. "Let's get this lesson started, then." He suggested, clapping his hands.

* * *

Three solar cycles before their day of graduation, their History instructor, Twister, took them on a field trip to Vos. To Wheeljack, Perceptor, and Ratchet's surprise, Gold accompanied Russet, and the two stood shoulder-to-shoulder the entire time as if nervous.

"Vos was once known as the most dangerous city, why?" Twister asked as the transport they were on trundled along.

A femme in the back raised her hand. "Because of the gang and illegal activity."

Twister nodded. "Correct. What can you tell me about them?"

Ratchet noticed that Russet seemed to shrink downwards in her seat and he reached out and patted her shoulder awkwardly. Gold's russet optics flashed to him curiously. "The biggest gang leader was called Keel Haul." Gold murmured. "He employed the use of fear, bribery, and torture to get his way."

The instructor glanced at Gold curiously before nodding. "That is correct. Now who can tell me what happened to Keel Haul?"

"Four stellar cycles ago he was arrested in the streets of Vos with his two bodyguards and was convicted and sentenced to isolation and imprisonment on an asteroid." Perceptor said promptly.

Ratchet heard Gold rumble. "Guess we missed _that_ memo." She murmured quietly to her sister who nodded jerkily.

Twister nodded, inclining her head toward the red and blue-grey mech. "That is also correct. Now, Perceptor, could you please tell me what made Keel Haul so special? What made him stand out as a gang leader?"

There was hardly a pause before Percy answered. "He employed the use of combat-trained bodyguards, deadly mercenaries, fear, and bribery. His 'title' as a gang leader is slightly inaccurate, as he didn't lead a gang. Rather, he was known as a 'pit-boss' who dealt illegal drugs, high-grade, and sometimes Cybertronians."

"That is correct." Twister nodded and looked out the window of the transport. "We're almost at the museum now, so get ready."

"Museum?" Ratchet asked the twins in front of him. Gold shrugged and looked at Russet.

"I had heard that there's a museum in Vos which outlines crimes, Enforcers, and criminals." The dark twin murmured. "Twister intends to take us all there."

Ratchet frowned. "I thought Vos was the most dangerous city on Cybertron?"

Gold shook her head, and to the medic-in-training's surprise, she spoke directly to him. "It _was_. Since Keel Haul had been arrested and his bodyguards and mercenaries pardoned if they agreed to supply the Iacon Enforcers with underground and shadow market dealings, the pit-bosses and illegal traders were all caught."

"Wow, you sure did your homework," Wheeljack said, obviously impressed. Ratchet and the twins said nothing but the medic felt that it wasn't a matter of them doing homework that allowed them to know so much about Vos. He said nothing as Gold shrugged.

"Yeah, especially since Russ sucks at history," Gold said with a perfectly straight face.

Ratchet and Jack had to laugh: Russet was better at history than she was at anything else. Gold's serious façade cracked and she grinned carefully at them. Judging by the lack of fanged dental plates being shown, Ratchet guessed that Russet had told her to be on her best behavior. The transport rocked to a stop and the doors opened. Twister stood at the front once more.

"Okay, class, we'll meet back here in six groons. Try not to get lost now, and don't leave the museum area!" that said, she stepped aside, allowing her class to stampede off the transport. Only Gold, Ratchet, and Russet walked off at a calmer pace.

"Why are they teaching us this, anyway?" Jack complained when the three caught up. "We're training to be medics and scientists, not Enforcers." He froze, remembering the twins' side jobs. "No offense."

Russet's back-spines twitched and clicked, but it was in amusement. "None taken."

Gold shrugged. "It's probably so you're more aware of everything that can happen." She suggested. "To see the causes and effects of your actions."

"Why are _you_ here, Gold?" Ratchet asked.

The bright femme shrugged again. She seemed fond of doing so. "Russ asked me to, and I wanted to see the new museum."

Russet's gaze turned to her sister. "You didn't know about the museum until a breem ago." She accused.

"Just because that's true doesn't mean that I can't have it as a reason for coming along."

"How can it be a reason if you didn't know about it in the first place?" Russet retorted.

"Well, I _was_ going to ditch you guys if it turned out to be boring, but since the museum sounds interesting, I thought I'd come along." Was the dry reply.

"Where would you go?" Jack asked. "There's nothing here."

Gold grinned and flashed one russet optic at him. "That's what _you_ think."

Russet smacked her sister. "Hush, you. Don't corrupt the minds of the innocent."

They approached the museum and quieted as they paid the entrance fee. "Are they really as innocent as you think, Russy?" Gold teased.

"Shut up, Goldie."

They fell silent once more and remained so as they walked further into the museum. Even as the three other students spoke amongst each other, Russet and Gold remained quiet and if they did speak, they were short, choppy sentences.

"You've been here before, haven't you?" Ratchet demanded at last when Russet steered them away from a dead end in the maze of corridors.

Gold frowned. "We grew up here."

The three students with the twins fell silent. "You grew up in Vos?" Jack asked eagerly as he always was when Russet revealed another hidden facet to her (and by extension, Gold's) past.

They walked up the stairs in deafeningly awkward silence. "On the outskirts." Russet said at last and when she spoke, it was very quiet.

"So you knew Keel Haul?" Jack pressed on.

They jumped when Gold suddenly snarled. "Aye, we did." Russet agreed quietly. She placed a clawed hand on the wall beside her. "We grew up in this very house, in fact."

Ratchet had thought the mind-bond required for him to be Ranthanoss's Controller (a small chip sort-of thing implanted in his cortex by Serenade) had been strange and awkward, and as a result kept it closed off most of the time. Now he gingerly opened it and reached out for his friend to try and figure out what he was thinking.

He encountered a brief mental block and for a moment he felt a sort of creeping sensation in his thoughts and cortex very much like a slimy snake-like creature twisting and writhing within the confines of his mind. Then it opened and like a cargo lift plummeting down, down, down until he was suddenly surrounded by all that was Russet and Ranthanoss.

Their minds, he found, were blended. He could feel the distinctly 'Ranthanoss' parts as well as he could feel the distinctly 'Russet' parts, but in the 'center' of it all, they sort of melded together, easing carefully from one to the next. If he had to describe it in one word, it would be 'dark,' or 'methodical.' Never let _anyone_ tell you that Pit-Dragons (or at least Ranthanoss) are just dumb brutes. They are methodical and logical though they follow a different logic than Cybertronians do.

Then, beneath Ratchet's mind and to his utter surprise, the side of Ranthanoss's mind he saw bloomed like a dark flower, opening up. Russet's followed though much slower and more reluctant. He saw everything, every facet of their lives that they were willing to share.

'_**We are putting great trust in you,'**_ the Ranthanoss-part of his friend's mind whispered. He couldn't help but notice that while the 'Dragon's voice was stilted and rough in speech, in thought it was smooth. _**'Do not prove us wrong.'**_ It was not a threat, but it wasn't much of a greeting either. And he understood Ranthanoss's words to him and Ironhide that day in the training room. The blending of minds…that would be why Ranthanoss's mood would be affected by Russet's and his reluctance to harm her.

Transforming was a relatively new innovation, but very few had yet to pursue it. Those who had were usually military mechs (with extra stress on _mechs_) who transformed into some sort of military vehicle like a tank or a jet depending on their body forms. As a medic, engineer, or scientist, they were given classes on the theory of the mechanics of transformation seams and cogs. Working and living with Russet expanded his knowledge greatly, but there were aspects of it that he didn't fully understand. Not yet, anyway.

A side-effect – an irreversible one, as a matter of fact – of transformation is that the subject's mind becomes…melded with that of what they transform into. In that way, no matter what they transform into, be it jet, tank, transport vehicle, or even Pit-Dragon, they are the same person no matter what form they exist in. Mechs (or the occasional femme) who transform into tanks are more grounded, understanding; jets are flighty (no pun intended for either one), quick to emotion; Pit-Dragons are fierce and animalistic. In essence, their mind also becomes one with their transformation mode as they themselves do physically. But at the rate that Ranthanoss and Russet have melded…it was unheard of. Such dedication and care he felt between the two was strange and made him feel as if he were staring at something sacred that was not meant for his optics.

The thoughts shifted and bulged outward, pushing him gently within the rolling tide. Even though he saw all that his good friend – as best of a friend as Wheeljack was – even though he saw everything that she had done in her past, he couldn't find it within himself to hate her. She hated herself enough.

He didn't know how or when he went back to his own body, but he only realized that he was spilling fluid from his eyes when Russet lifted a clawed finger and wiped at it awkwardly. _'Pit-Dragons cannot cry,_' she said by way of explanation.

"Ratchet, are you all right?" Wheeljack was asking, and the medic-in-training jerked his optics to stare at his friends who regarded him with wide optics.

He swatted at Russet's hand (he heard Ranthanoss's ghostly chuckle at that) and swiped at his face. Russet produced a cleaning cloth from subspace and with a murmur of thanks, he cleaned his face. "Sorry. I'm just…not feeling well right now."

Wheeljack nodded solemnly. "I know. I can't imagine how many were killed in Vox by Keel Haul."

"A bit more than two thousand," Gold told them. "No one is really sure about the exact number."

'_**Except us. Rykenta and I have very good memories and we mourned each of their deaths properly.'**_

Ratchet stumbled and carefully he was caught and held gently. "You sure you're okay, Ratch?"

"Is there anything in Vos that medico there can catch?" Gold asked her sister, jerking her head at the red and white mech.

Russet shook her head. "Nah," she said and Ratchet realized then that they were both very good actors. Or actresses. Whatever. Her optics widened comically. "Maybe he'd catch the _gardonxevua_."

Gold's optics widened as well but she ruined it by giving a fanged grin. "He has the symptoms for it."

Ratchet swatted at Russet's clawed hands and stood straight with a huff. _'I'd no more catch _gardonxevua_ than you would become a marsh skipper.'_

Ranthanoss guffawed, bestial voice shaking him to the core. (I didn't learn until later that _gardonxevua_ was Vox slang for a gambling virus that made one compelled to place bets. Fegali didn't want to tell me so I had to go to Ratchet and pry it out of him. He laughed when he remembered the conversation with the twins.)

So the day had gone and Ratchet felt surprisingly good. Even though his recharge cycle later that night was broken with Russet and Ranthanoss's memories, he was happy with himself. He had gotten a look at Vos, and while he knew that the underground pits where he and Russet would fight in at Kalis would be very different, it was nice to know a little of what to expect.


	11. Trouble in Kalis: part II

He was wrong. Vos was _nothing_ like Kalis and if were not for the comforting feeling of Ranthanoss at his side, he would've ran long ago. The landlord of the small house they had rented was a retired referee for the underground pit-fights and gave Ratchet a toothy grin upon seeing Ranthanoss.

For most of their first day in their little house, Russet sulked. Before leaving, Serenade had deactivated her transformation cog, so she was stuck as a Pit-Dragon until they could uncover the killers in the underground fighting ring. She snuck around the house, awkwardly eating a cube of her usual low-grade before plopping herself down in the middle of the hall. Ratchet knew without having to ask that it was her way of showing her dislike for the mission.

Truth be told, he was terrified of what would happen. He understood the fighting dynamic (mostly it was to leave the fighting to Ranthanoss and to warn him if anything happened or if he had a plan), the etiquette, and the layout of the pits, but that didn't mean that he was comfortable with waltzing into the pits and signing Ranthanoss up for a fight.

Night came quickly and nervously he gathered the things they'd need: Ranthanoss's harness, the data-pads and –cubes that contained the information on their aliases, credits for betting and registering, and an empty data-pad for notes.

Ranthanoss followed placidly enough but Ratchet didn't need to access their bond to know that he was on edge as well. He patted his friend's neck in what he hoped to be a reassuring motion and led the way out the door into the alien world of Kalis' night life.

* * *

"Hey." Ratchet turned, careful to keep Ranthanoss's lead line away from the new person, and he though it was a good move when a low growl rumbled through the air. "Are you new here?"

Ratchet gave a quick, shy smile at the silver mech behind him. "Uh, yeah."

The mech chuckled and the silver and blue turbohawk on his shoulder shifted, blinking bright optics suspiciously at them. "You can tell a bit. Need help?"

'_**Accept it.'**_ Ranthanoss told him. _**'You need all the help you can get,'**_ he added wickedly.

'_A friend would help, too.'_ Russet added.

He shifted, leaning against Ranthanoss. He didn't have to pretend to be nervous, and Ranthanoss rumbled deep in his chest to reassure him. As Beater told him, Ranthanoss would instinctively move to comfort him instead of fight off whatever made them nervous. Ratchet patted the dark armor just out of his periphery. He shifted. "If you please. I'm kinda lost."

The turbohawk gave a low chime, feathered crest singing as it twisted against the mech's arm. It shifted, claws opening and closing, but Ratchet noticed that the stranger-mech had shoulder pads and an arm guard for when his pit-beast had sharp claws that could easily tear through his armor. "My name's Silverstreak." He said cheerily, flipping a hand in greeting. "This here is Flash."

Ratchet gave a hesitant smile. Now was a time to test his alias and that of Russet's. "I'm Shadowspark." He said, playing the shy newcomer. Ranthanoss chuckled again. "This is Jumper."

'_**Stupid name,'**_ Ranthanoss grumbled. _Well_, Ratchet supposed, careful to keep it to himself. _To someone who had once been called 'Moon' and had been the top pit-fighter in his class, Jumper would be a stupid name._

Silverstreak eyed Ranthanoss thoughtfully. "Wow," he whistled. "He's young but he's certainly fit. Where'd you get him?"

He hadn't been briefed on that. Ratchet's tanks sank. _**'Inherited.'**_ Ranthanoss told him and he parroted his words, adding his own flair as Ranthanoss intended for him to do. _**'Creator's sibling fought underground for a time then retired to breed. Ran out of money and creator's-sibling gave you a young pit-dragon and helped you train. Died before could escort you to pit-fighting arenas.'**_ Ratchet forgot that Ranthanoss had no words for 'aunty' and 'uncle,' having no familial ties himself.

The mech winced in sympathy. "I'm sorry about your uncle," he said, but he whistled again. "But man, he had a good eye for pit-beasts." Ranthanoss preened beneath his words and Ratchet nudged him gently. "How old?"

'_Ten stellar cycles.'_ Russet said. _"Known us for four."_

"He's ten stellar cycles, but I've known him for only four stellar cycles." He told Silverstreak. Flash shifted on his shoulders and he looked up fondly at his beast.

"Well, Flash reminds me that we must get you signed up or all the good arenas will be taken," he said apologetically. "Let's go, shall we?"

* * *

Ranthanoss relaxed palpably when he was settled in his caged half of the arena. Ratchet could feel his ease as he paced along the charged bars as well as his eagerness to charge at his relatively young opponent in the other end of the arena.

'_Will you be all right?'_ Ratchet asked worriedly and if he could have, Ranthanoss would've grinned.

'_**We'll be perfectly fine, Ratchet.'**_ He assured his Controller. He rumbled, pleased to be able to call Ratchet _their_ Controller. Slicer would _never_ be _their_ Controller ever again. It would be Ratchet or no one. He rumbled again, baring his sharp, needle-fine fangs. _**'We know what we're doing.'**_

The bell blared and both beasts shook their head at the piercing sound. But the bars disappeared and they leapt forward. _'Trust us, Ratchet. Let us loose. We know what we're doing.'_

They could feel his worry echoing through their mind-bond. It was holding them back. Ranthanoss swung his head hard, twisting his neck just so to graze the beast's shoulder with a nose-spine. It yelped and spun away as he turned to keep it in his sight.

He took a deep breath and roared, startling the other Pit-Dragon into flinching. In a moment he charged, jaws wide open. The beast's neck was caught in the heavy jaws and it was swung around, shaken back and forth ferociously.

The Controller-femme of the 'Dragon slapped the surrender button on her side and the white light flashed into the pit. As Ranthanoss had been trained to do, he threw his wounded opponent toward the opposite end of the arena with a savage roar. Oh yes, it felt good to be back, but the low-level fights had him chafing at the harness. It was almost too easy. Just to be difficult, he snapped at the medics coming to help the fallen 'Dragon and stalked around the arena.

He calmed very slowly beneath Ratchet's hands but obeyed readily enough, still prancing around even as he was led out of the arena. Silverstreak found them later in the stables where the pit-beasts were prepared or cooled down. As ever, Flash rode on his shoulder, surveying the world with his sharp optics. "I underestimated you, my friend." Silverstreak said, surveying Ranthanoss from the other end of the stall where Ratchet had put his 'pit-beast.' "You and your beast. _You_ may be new to the arenas, but your beast there isn't." he said, nodding at Ranthanoss appreciatively.

'_Great, Ranthanoss, you blew our cover.'_ Ratchet hissed as the Pit-Dragon tossed his head.

'_Relax, Ratchet.'_ Russet murmured. _'We know exactly what we're doing.'_

'_You fought like that on purpose?'_ he fumed.

'_**Of course,'**_ Ranthanoss purred.

Silverstreak was peering at Ranthanoss. "Ask him who his last Controller was." he said. "He looks familiar."

Ratchet hesitated, but Ranthanoss answered before he thought to ask. _**'Slicer. His name was Slicer.'**_

"He says that his last Controller was called Slicer." The medic murmured. "His old name wasn't Jumper, though, that much I know." He trailed off at the surprised look in Silverstreak's optics.

Silverstreak put Flash on a perch nearby and the turbohawk shifted, crest shifting. He whistled again. "Man, that beast's a legend in the pits." He whispered. "Lost only once and that was to a mech named Bladeflash and his beast called Starlight. Every other match this old guy got a kill or surrender."

Ratchet glanced at Ranthanoss who was calmer now, nose held high in the air as if reaching for the scents just beyond his nose. "Jumper?"

His friend shook his head in amusement. "Never thought I'd meet a legend like _him_. They called him Moon, Primus only knew why." Flash gave a low cry, flaring his wings and shifting. Silverstreak stroked his partner's back reassuringly. "I can see why he was so eager to go fight. It was probably a while since he's fought."

'_Darn right,'_ Russet said, sounding pleased.

'_Hush.'_ Ratchet snapped, but they could tell that he wasn't particularly angry.

Anything they were about to say was interrupted as Ranthanoss roared. He lunged toward the back gate, weight causing the metal to creak. "Jumper, stop!" Ratchet yelled, trying to figure out what set him off. A Pit-Dragon snarled from the walkway on the other side, barely held back by its Controller. Without thinking, Ratchet leapt into the stall as Flash shrieked and Silverstreak cried out. _'Ranthanoss, stop it!'_

He narrowly dodged a long tail-blade as Ranthanoss's tail lashed. He lunged for the harness and hauled on it. It didn't surprise him that the Pit-Dragon could easily lift him and swing him around, but it was a shocker as Ranthanoss reared in surprise. Carefully he settled back on all fours, setting Ratchet down very gently. He panted, breaths whistling through the rows of menacingly sharp teeth, or was he just hissing?

But now Ranthanoss's attention was focused on Ratchet and his mind was a seething mass of wish for a fight. He calmed slowly and to encourage him, Ratchet stroked the soft metal beneath the Pit-Dragon's eye.

"Well I'll be skewered, roasted in a pit of slag and served to the Bandit," Silverstreak drawled, Flash once more on his shoulder. Ratchet looked up at his friend. "I've seen that bastard skewer others alive for getting between him and a fight but he calmed down so quickly!"

Ratchet ducked his head and stroked Ranthanoss's side. "Well, we've reached an understanding, him and I." he said shyly.

"Come. Let's see if this brute wants to try a higher-level fight."

Ratchet looked at Ranthanoss. He had no injuries, and the other fight hadn't fazed him a bit. More so he was peering at Ratchet as if to say 'well, hurry up and agree!' "Well…all right."

He felt as if he condemned his spark to the pits.

* * *

It was early morning by the time Ratchet and Ranthanoss wandered to their small house. The latter was, for the most part, uninjured and in high spirits, giving low, pleased rumbles every once in a while. Ratchet was dead-tired. Ranthanoss had chuckled as he shuffled off to the sole recharge berth in the house, settling on the inner wall of the room himself. Ratchet glanced at him tiredly as he climbed wearily onto the flat surface where he could rest.

"Wake me if we have a visitor or ten cycles after daybreak." He mumbled to his friend. The last thing he heard was the affectionate rumble from his pit-beast. He was _so_ tired…

* * *

When Ratchet woke, it was to Russet's fearsome head in his face. With a yelp he swung his arm without thinking, hitting her hard in her right optic, cracking the bright, golden glass. She yelped and jerked backwards, shaking her head and snarling in pain. _'Silverstreak.'_ She snapped. _'In kitchen.'_

Like a cloth falling over her she disappeared as Ratchet fully woke from his recharge cycle. He swore violently as he stumbled to his feet. "Russ?" no answer. He swore again and stumbled out into the kitchen, almost running into Silverstreak who, as Russet had said, was waiting patiently in the kitchen.

"Morning." He greeted cheerfully.

Ratchet grunted. "Have you seen…?"

Silverstreak nodded. "He stomped by a little while ago." He waved a hand. "He'll be fine. I just wanted to know, since you're new to Kalis, if you wanted to take a look around. I know some pretty cool sights."

'_**Go, Ratchet.'**_ Ranthanoss rumbled from some other part of the house. _**'It is important for you to know about Kalis and any information you can glean from Silverstreak will be helpful.'**_

And so, reluctantly, Ratchet left them behind (after Russet grumbled and snarled at him to leave with Silverstreak) in favor of going sightseeing with Silverstreak. "These recent attacks are giving us decent pit-fighters bad names." He muttered as they walked through the streets. The morning traffic of Kalis filled the streets and they wove through pedestrians, transport vehicles, and the odd stall of goods here and there. He motioned discreetly. "You don't have to be very bright to notice that everyone's afraid, not to mention there's undercover Enforcers everywhere."

Ratchet looked around. Fearful optics flashed from face to face and though he didn't know much about Kalis, he figured that the street was unusually empty. People stood like statues on the corners, near stalls and transports, against a wall. Mechs and femmes who stood too rigid, to stiff to be there casually. "Do you know who does it?" Ratchet asked in a low voice.

Silverstreak gave him a sharp glance. "If I did, wouldn't I have told you?"

"I don't see why you would." He muttered to himself. Silverstreak heard him anyway but ignored it.

"The pits are a hard place, but most of the fighters have _some_ semblance of honor." He added, shaking his head. "It's always Thunderscythe and her gang that cause all the trouble."

"Thunderscythe?" Ratchet asked, repeating the unfamiliar name slowly.

His friend nodded, pulling him out of the way of a transport vehicle. "She's bad news. Almost as bad as those Dragon Twins a few stellar cycles back." Ratchet suppressed a shiver. "Her gang's pretty big but underground we call her the Bandit." He said softly. "She has spies everywhere and doesn't trust anyone but her bodyguards and their beasts."

"Why?" Ratchet asked quietly.

"Why doesn't she trust people, or why is she causing so much trouble?"

The medic shrugged. "Either. Both."

Silverstreak pulled him into a bar nearby and together they sat in a corner. After ordering a cube of high-grade each they settled down to talk. "Well it started with Keel Haul and the Dragon Twins. You know about them?" Ratchet nodded jerkily. "Okay. So after Keel Haul and the Twins were arrested, people suddenly started getting arrested. Rumor had it that the Twins were giving the Iacon Enforcers information that led to capture after capture. Drug traders, weapons dealers, illegal gambling bosses, slave drivers, all of them were captured. The only thing that _didn't_ get tapped was the underground pits. No one knew why, but Thunderscythe decided to start there." He shifted, taking a gulp of his high-grade. "I heard rumor that her creator had gotten arrested in those busts, but no one knows _why_ she started that infernal gang of hers, but they've been around since just after the arrests began to die down."

"Giving the newcomer a history lesson?" a tall, shapely femme ambled over, twisting delicately to sit in the chair beside them.

The silver mech gave a chuckle. "Ah, Bandit, what a pleasure it is to see you."

The tiny femme (who Ratchet thought looked a lot like Encore but pale green and white instead of tan and gold) gave a musical laugh. "You wish." She teased. Her green optics turned to Ratchet. "My name's Bandit. Not to be confused with _the_ Bandit."

"Ratchet." He nodded politely. "Uh..."

"He's new to _Ka_lis." Silverstreak said companionably though with a strange emphasis on the first syllable of the city's name.

Bandit peered at him. "I see. Now why were you talking about Bandit?" Her optics were narrowed by the time Silverstreak finished explaining. "Don't go sticking your helms up the crotches of Pit-Dragons." She told them. Judging by the way Silverstreak made a face at that, it was something that Bandit had told him often. "Specially one as nock-helmed as Bandit." The last was said in a very low whisper as if she were afraid that even the shadows would leap up and consume them.

Ratchet shivered.

Silverstreak rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever old lady."

"I'm not old, you stupid little youngling." Bandit snapped back, but a smile curved her lips into a soft slope.

The mech flapped a hand at her and continued as if she had never interrupted. "Where was I? Oh yeah, the arrests. Using money she earned while betting underground, she had gotten enough money to pay the bail of certain people: a brewer, a weapons dealer, one from each illegal 'profession.'"

"See," Bandit told him. "She wanted to be a pit boss, just like Keel Haul was. So she gathered everyone she'd need, bought a few bodyguards, and started out in an old warehouse at the edge of town, just beside Keel Haul's house – what is now the museum."

"Didn't anybody catch her?" Ratchet found himself asking.

Both shook their heads. "By the time people realized what she was up to, she had built up enough of an empire to threaten them and their families. If any word got out about her, then she'd start the killing."

Bandit shook her head, stealing a gulp of Silverstreak's high-grade. "Only way to catch _this_ particular turbo-rat is with a creature of the shadows with enough strength to take out her dratted beasts _and_ bodyguards and enough smarts to avoid being killed. Since there's yet to be such a creature, I'd say it's nigh impossible."

"Why not a squad of soldiers, or a bunch of pit-fighters?" Ratchet asked.

They were already shaking their heads. They paid the tab and walked back out, Bandit deciding to accompany them. "Only Enforcers can make arrests and the Kalis Enforcers were among the first of them hit with threats to their families." Bandit explained. "As far as _we_ know, the Iacon Enforcers (they're the only ones that can make arrests outside of their city, did ya know?) don't have a clue about Bandit."

"If reinforcements were sent from the Army, then she'd run. Same with squads of Enforcers. If they were from Iacon she'd find out, and if they were from Kalis, she'd begin to kill innocent bystanders." Silverstreak added. "If it would be anyone, it would have to be a small group, and I highly doubt that even a high-rank pit-fighter would be a match for Bandit and _one_ of her beasts!"

"Not even you?" Bandit teased, judging the silver mech as they dodged a transport.

"Flash and I are the best in our group." Silverstreak said haughtily. "We could take them on, whatever good it would do."

Something was nagging at the back of Ratchet's cortex. Bandit's words from earlier echoed in his mind. _Only way to catch _this_ particular turbo-rat is with a creature of the shadows…_

He had a brief glimpse of Russet and Gold in his processor. They knew Kalis better than anyone, having lived in the darkness there for a while. They knew the darkness well.

…_with enough strength to take out her dratted beasts _and_ bodyguards…_ he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his tanks. _…and enough smarts to avoid being killed._

He stopped suddenly, thankfully not in the middle of a road but rather at the corner of a building. No undercover officer stood there and he was allowed to think for a moment. Their conversation replayed in his head.

_Only Enforcers can make arrests_…

…_the Iacon Enforcers (they're the only ones that can make arrests outside of their city, ya know?_)…

Iacon Enforcers who knew the Kalis shadows, who had the strength and the thinking capacity to, as Bandit had said, nab that particular turbo-rat…

He swayed. Russet and Gold. They were raised in Kalis, are Iacon Enforcers, and are more than capable of taking down _another_ pit boss. It wasn't the murderer they were after: it was the _gang_. The murder was a cover-up. They had known about Thunderscythe for a while; he had heard them murmuring to each other at the museum and when they thought he couldn't hear them. _Bandit_ and _thunder_-something were the most commonly used words. Saying that they were going undercover to get the murderer ensured that Bandit wouldn't escape.

'_Russet!'_ he snapped over their bond, anger emanating off of him: passerby veered around him as Bandit and Silverstreak fought the tide to get back to him.

There was no response from his friend, but Silverstreak grabbed his arm and dragged him sharply over. "Speak of the Bandit and she comes with claws," Bandit whispered, voice surprisingly level.

"Call your beast," Silverstreak told him. "And keep moving. Tell him to meet us at the outskirts of town if he's not following us already: Bandit and her claws won't attack us until we're alone, and I'd like to be sure that no one gets injured."

"How very _honorable_ of you," Bandit drawled, green optics grave.

Silverstreak smirked. "I try." He said. "Flash says they're still a ways behind us, but they're within view. No, don't turn around." He said sharply in a hissed whisper. "Just keep walking."

"But Jumper's at home," he protested. "He can't open the doors, either."

They looked at him sharply but said nothing. "No pit-beast ever leaves their Controller." Bandit told him softly. "It's against their nature. My Bladeskipper is trailing us through the alleys, and his Flash is overhead. No, _don't look up!_"

"We can take them," Silverstreak said confidently. "It's only Bandit, a guard, and their beasts."

Bandit slapped his chest with the back of her hand and the mech winced. "Make light of trouble when it comes to Bandit and you'll find yourself slagged in a gutter afore you can switch your optics." Bandit seemed to have no accent but Ratchet wasn't sure if her neutral Iacon accent was a ruse or if she was imitating the accent of those around her or where she grew up.

"But still," Silverstreak protested. "It's two pit-beasts and two Controllers to three of us."

"Jumper's not answering." Ratchet told them. "He's ignoring me, I think."

The two traded glances as the crowd began to thin. "That's not good." Bandit said. "We can't do anything now at any rate. Crowd's thinning. They'll cut us off soon."

Ratchet gulped. What did he get himself into? More than anything he wished that Russet was there. A soothing thought brushed his mind. _'Be calm, Ratchet.'_

Ranthanoss was wound tightly like a serpent about to strike. _**'We will be there soon.'**_

'_Hurry.'_ He replied though even the voice of his thoughts was shaky. Another soothing thought was sent his way.

"Jumper's coming." He said, sounding relieved. They turned and continued to walk down the alley. He trusted Bandit and Silverstreak to lead him the right way. They turned the corner and froze, finding a massive Pit-Dragon waiting for them.

Russet, for all she grew since her time with Keel Haul, was still shorter than he was at the shoulder: her spikes, when fully extended, just barely passed the level of his optics. This new Pit-Dragon, however, was much larger, his shoulder spikes level with Ratchet's optics. Even with out the extra blade-spikes along its tail it was a deadly beast.

And he was sure that no matter how strong Bandit's Bladeskipper was or how fast Silverstreak's Flash was, they didn't stand a chance against _this_ beast. Another beast appeared beside it and they all took a step back. This creature they had no name for, but it was as dangerous as the Pit-Dragon, for at its shoulder it was level with Ratchet's chest. It was covered with wire-fine fur like a cyberwolf but it had a feline appearance. Heavy armor lined its spine and its tail was split in two with a barbed scythe blade at both ends. Paw gauntlets lengthened and supported the already-massive claws, and from its chest two sickle-like arms extended. Its fangs were like small daggers, and even if it was just _this_ beast they had to fight it would be difficult.

"Yer've been a' snoopin' a bit too much," a voice told them and they whirled around to find a massive mech and a battle-scarred femme. It was the femme that spoke, her words twisted and ugly like poison in the fuel lines. "Tryin' te' bring honor te yeer names?" she spat and Ratchet found himself hating her as much as he feared her. "Vell it vorn't vorrk." She sneered, revealing a few gaps in her dental plates. "Especially since yee'll bee dead afore ye can' beg ferr iit."

"Starting the party before us, Thunderscythe?" Ratchet brightened instantly at the familiar voice. Flux Core and Forge had appeared behind the pit-boss and her guard, both appearing to be as comfortable as if they owned the place despite the very visible signs that they were dressed in heavier armor than usual. "Such a shame a whore like you has no semblance of manners…"

Thunderscythe gave a shriek of indignation. "Vee'll see!" she shrieked. "Aaraya! Yaaya! Kill the spies."

Bladeskipper leapt over a fence and at the feline-thing (Ratchet assumed it was Bladeskipper, for Bandit was very intent on that fight) while Flash dove from the sky, clawing at the optics of the massive Pit-Dragon.

'_Tell them to move. We're coming.'_

Ratchet obeyed, telling his friends to call off their beasts. Surprised, they obeyed and a split second later two massive forms dropped from the sky. He had never been happier to see the twins and nearly cried with relief.

'_**Be strong and brave.'**_ Ranthanoss told him gently even as Russet roared, shaking the feline-blade creature which she had gripped in her powerful jaws. She twisted her neck and the cat-thing was hit against the wall continuously until it hung limp in her jaws. It was dropped and she leapt at the Pit-Dragon which her sister was dancing around.

An image flashed across his mind and grabbing Bandit and Silverstreak, drew them toward the door. _'I'm so going to kill you later.'_

'_Love you too, Ratch.'_ Was the distracted reply as Ratchet slammed the door shut. _'Find the other Iacon Enforcers and _stay with them._ Thunderscythe will have mercenaries and guards all around looking for you.'_

'_All right,'_ he said, trying to sound strong as Ranthanoss said.

An amused thought followed and the flow of 'talk' ceased. "We have to get going. Russ says there's mercenaries and guards everywhere looking for us." He dragged them into a narrow hallway. Silent motions to their beasts kept the cyberwolf and turbohawk quiet though their optics shone suspiciously in the darkness.

"What was that behind there?" Bandit hissed, Bladeskipper's hackles rising silently. The 'wolf said nothing and made no sound.

He didn't know what to say. Was he still technically undercover? "Iacon Enforcers are arresting Thunderscythe." He said instead.

The two were quiet behind him and they paused as sound echoed through a shut door at the end of the dark hallway. "Bladeskipper says that there's a lot of people on the other side." Bandit said quietly, motioning to the door. "She doesn't know if they're out to kill us or out to arrest us, though."

Ratchet bit his lip. "We'll have to chance it."

Silverstreak stared hard at him. "Wandering around with creatures like this – they're obviously pit-beasts! – can get us arrested. If they know we're pit-fighters, we'll be arrested. If they're not Enforcers and are mercenaries, we'll be killed. Is that how you want to go?"

He hesitated. "Let me go through first." Without waiting for a reply, he slid the door open a crack and poked his head through. A large number of the mechs were unfamiliar, but they all wore the uniforms of Iacon Enforcers. With a sigh of relief he walked through the open door, throwing it wide open.

The mechs and occasional gnarly femme startled but settled when Ironhide waded through the crowd. "Ratchet!"

"Ironhide," he breathed. "Primus am I glad to see you. Russ, Gold, Flux, and Forge are in the alleyway just behind that hall." He said, jerking his head to doorway. "Russ said to watch out 'cause there's assassins out to get us."

Ironhide frowned. "Us?" he echoed and Ratchet winced slightly.

"Yeah, me and my _allies._" He said, stressing the last word.

The red mech's brow ridge rose. "All right, Ah'm a' listenin'."

Ratchet motioned to the door. "It's all right." He promised.

Silverstreak, cocky, arrogant bugger that he was came out first, Flash resting on his fist. Flash himself stared balefully at the Enforcers as Bladeskipper emerged slowly, followed like a shadow by Bandit. "Okay, Ratch, y' better 'xplain yerself." Ironhide rumbled, crossing his arms.

An Enforcer nearby brought his energy cuffs out and Bladeskipper snarled at him. The tension and fear caused Ratchet to snap angrily at them. "Try to arrest them and I'll have Russet tear your spark through your mouth." He snarled.

There was a low sound and it took the three a moment to realize that it was Ironhide laughing. "All right, yer idjits. Back t' guard duty. We've got orders t' let these go free."

There was a low growl and suddenly Russet was there in all her bleeding, snarling glory. Everyone backed off quickly after that. "Russ," he whispered, throwing his arms around her neck. Then he pulled back and hit her sharply. She bared her fangs in what he recognized as a Pit-Dragon smile. "I'm going to frakking kill you." He snapped. "Going after a _pit boss?_"

Russet gave a dry laugh as she transformed. "I had no choice, Ratch. Now be a dear and explain to your friends what happened while I make sure we got everyone." With a nod she walked out, fluid-streaked body disappearing through the hordes of mechs and femmes in the room.

-

Silverstreak and Bandit bid him farewell, watching in amusement as he stepped into the Enforcer transport. "Flash says that I should give this to you," he said awkwardly, giving the red and white medic a large flat box.

Russet grinned from her spot on his other side. She nodded to Flash who raised his crest in greeting. "Thanks," Ratchet said shyly, taking the box.

Bandit laughed, Bladeskipper as ever at her side. The cyberwolf panted happily next to her Controller, apparently at ease. "Take care o' yerself, ye imbecile." She said good-naturedly, handing the medic a small box. "For the gift Flare n' Silverstreak gave you."

Ratchet smiled and thanked the spunky femme. He had known them for only a few days (and in Bandit and Bladeskipper's case, less than a day) and he already felt the stirrings of a good friendship growing. Even _if_ they were on opposite sides of the law.

"We gotta go: the transports are firing up." Russet murmured.

"You guys come back sometime. I wanna see if Silverstreak's full of hot air when he thinks Flash can take Russet." Bandit snickered. The mech huffed but the familiar flash of indignation flared across his friend's optics.

"Will do, Bandit." He stepped onto the transport and sat down. Russet followed, finding a seat across from him as the doors closed. They waved until they couldn't see each other anymore and the transport had trundled down the streets. He turned to Russet. "That was all well and good and certainly a great experience, but let's never do it again."

Russet, Gold, Flux Core, Forge, Replay (who had acted as Communications Officer for the bust), Ironhide, and the three medics who came along laughed warmly along with him.

* * *

**Silverstreak and Flash were characters submitted by Spiritprime. :3**

**Bandit, Bandit, Bladeskipper, Russet, Gold, Flux Core, Forge, and Replay are mine....**


	12. Interlude

**Yes, this chapter is very short. I didn't want to interrupt the flow of the story by giving an abrupt scene/time change.**

**No, I don't own Transformers.**

* * *

_Narzenim's Notes:_

_-Mother's handwriting is messy. Her glyphs are crooked, too. It's hard to read them sometimes.  
-I had always assumed that Ratchet and Mother were bonded. I guess they were just very close friends. The chip from their undercover operation (which, for reasons known only to him, Ratchet had kept implanted) would explain why I could hear them talking to each other as they did.  
-She had never told me about Skydance or her sparkling. I had always assumed that seh had adopted all of her "kids" as she had with me. I guess that assumptions in regards to Windtreader should not be made.  
-I had found a picture earlier in the box of what I assume (against my better judgment) was her sparkling. He was _so_ adorable. I can just _feel_ her ambivalence towards him. I wonder if Ratchet knows where he is today. I wonder if he knows that Windtreader is his mother... I wonder why she hasn't spoke of him._

* * *

He found Russet a few days later in her room. It was her new haven when she had to think, especially about something personal or important. She was curled up on her berth, back pressed against the wall and her legs somehow pressed against her chest. She stared forlornly at the empty box that once contained her sparkling.

For a long moment both were silent until Ratchet moved to sit beside her. She uncurled slightly and allowed him to lean against her side, both of them staring at the empty box. "Did it…?"

Russet's armor rattled but not hard enough to shake him. "No." Ratchet looked around the room. The body, which had been almost complete the last time he had seen it, was gone. He looked at Russet. "He is in Kaon."

For a long moment Ratchet didn't know what to say. She _abandoned_ it?

Russet stood and walked away, no doubt sensing his thought. She stood in a corner, watching him with bright gold optics. He was relieved to see that the optic he had shattered had been repaired. "He is in an orphanage." She said, looking away at last.

Ratchet peered at his friend. "What are you thinking?"

After a brief moment of hesitation, Russet allowed him into her mind. Ranthanoss moved aside willingly enough with no sense of animosity: it was hard to believe that though he seemed older, Ranthanoss was actually pretty young. Like Russet, he was mentally older than his/their body though it was hard to tell. Even so, Ranthanoss (unlike Russet in this sense) was still very young. Almost infantile.

The medic sank into their mind and felt the stabbing pain of loss, Russet's reluctance to leave the little bundle on the doorstep of the orphanage. She refused to show Ratchet its name, but she allowed him to see the buildings down the street.

'_Why?'_ he asked.

'_**We are dangerous,'**_ said Ranthanoss. Ratchet was surprised that he answered.

'_We don't want to hurt him.'_ said Russet. _'He is safer there.'_

Ratchet receded from their mind when Ranthanoss said very bluntly that it was time to start the day.

* * *

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Russet looked up in surprise, blinking almost blankly at Wheeljack. "I saw you carry the crates to your room earlier." He said in explanation.

Russet regarded her friends with a masked expression, sipping her Energon almost delicately. "And if I was?"

Percy muttered something under his breath. Ratchet found out later from Russet that he had said _'good riddance.'_ Wheeljack had no answer for her, but Ratchet did. "We'd see you off, we'd be happy for you, we'd throw you a farewell party."

Russet gave a soft smile. "That's nice. However, I'm afraid my transport will be arriving soon."

The mechs were floored. Soon? Even Percy was startled and looked ashamed because of it. "Why didn't you tell us?" Wheeljack asked forlornly.

The lone femme in the house gave a sort of shrug. "I was a bit busy. Sorry. I didn't think you'd miss me."

"We wouldn't." Percy muttered though it was loud enough for all of them to hear.

Russet stood calmly and picking him up by his neck armor (I understood later that it was where the clavicle would be in a human) and placed his aft on the table. She then proceeded to invade his personal space, shoving her deceptively calm face into his. "I don't care what you have against me, Perceptor." She told him quietly, deadly. Her face was the face of Moon who was a killer, not kindly Russet who was a medic. "I remember more than you think. No, don't look at me like that, I do. I remember your creator. I remember what she was. I frakking saved your life because she was trying to shove you into anyone who was willing to take you." She snarled, voice low and deep though it wasn't Ranthanoss that was speaking. "Oh, yes, don't look so surprised. I killed your paternal creator, yes, but I spared your maternal one. I helped her escape through the back because I knew she was carrying you. I was beaten that day because Keel Haul found out. But I am a femme, and I cannot harm a youngling. Especially when they have not yet tasted the breath of life.

"Keel Haul waited. He knew I wouldn't kill a femme with a sparkling in her gut and neither would Gold. So he waited and waited. He was a patient mech. Gold and I had gone to the market and we saw your maternal creator. She was desperate. She pleaded with us to, if we truly had to, kill her but spare you." Russet paused, baring her fangs slightly. Perceptor was frozen in shock. "We told her we could promise nothing, but when Gold was gone, I took you. I promised her I'd find a safe place for you, and I did. I ran with you in my arms to Kaon where I found an orphanage willing to take you in. I wrote a note to the caretaker explaining what happened. And here we are, full circle. Gold killed your maternal creator, and I killed your paternal creator and _spared your life_."

Perceptor was shaking now and batted feebly at her arms but it did very little good. He refused to believe that what Russet was telling him was the truth.

"I've watched you your entire life, Perceptor. I made sure that you had someone to talk to, gifts on your creation day. And then you were adopted," Russet purred, voice deadly. "And I watched you from afar. Your foster parents told you what happened to your real ones and you came to hate me. And I didn't care because I knew that I saved your Primus-forsaken life when my sister wouldn't." she snarled as if her anger at that had rekindled. "I am tired of this. You hate me. I don't care, but for just this once you will pretend that you're happy for me. All you have to say is 'good luck,' or 'best wishes,' or even 'have fun,' but you will not give me the impression that you hate my guts just this once."

"And why should I?" Percy squeaked.

Russet growled. "You knew the entire time, somehow in your cortex that you owed me for _something_, but you couldn't figure out what. Now you know. You owe me your life and all I ask in return is that just this once you pretend that you care." She dropped him and stalked out, spine-spikes held stiffly along her back.

After checking on Perceptor who squeaked out an affirmative that he was all right, Ratchet ran after Russet. He found her in her room, going over last-minute things though he could tell that she was still irritated. "You can rent this room out if you like." She said, checking her crates. "I probably won't be back."

"Was it true?" Ratchet blurted and the femme froze.

"Yes." She said simply. "Every word." She turned and handed him a data-cube. "Can you do this for me? Just this one last thing?"

Ratchet's red hands curled around her clawed digits. It made him feel like a sparkling clutching his creator's hand. "Anything."

She leaned forward and brushed her cheek against his face, moving her head so that her forehead nestled against his, her nose brushing gently against his own. "Thank you." She whispered, and then she was gone, whisked away like the fierce winds that sometimes blew across the empty plains.

He didn't need to look out the door to know that she had taken her crates with her, and that the transport she had been waiting for was outside. He picked up one of her empty data-pads and plugged the chip in.

_Ratchet,_

_By now you must understand our reservations with having our sparkling with us. We are much too dangerous and we are often called out for dangerous missions, some of which we may never return from. That is why there are so few femme Enforcers: they are loathe to give up the possibilities of having sparklings, especially since their bondmates are usually unable to understand their harsh lifestyle._

_I have only one favor to ask of you, and it is relatively simple or so we hope. I ask you to look after my sparkling. Keep an optic on him, we mean. In this 'cube I've also put together a note of credit to use to his benefit. His orphanage is the only building on Asher's Street in Kaon. _

_Thank you, Ratchet, for everything you've done for us. _

_Love Always, _

_Russet_

_P.S.: My sparkling. His name is Prowl._


	13. Until We Meet Again

**Okay, I got this one out somehow. I'm gonna be leaving on a trip to California tomorrow so I doubt I'll be working on _Memoirs_ for a while. I'll get back on Sunday and hopefully resume working on it. :)**

* * *

_Narzenim's Notes:_

_-the idea of Cybertronian units of time are confusing. Stellar cycles vs solar cycles? (Stellar cycles: analagous to years, solar cycles: analagous to days)  
-groons: hours  
-breems: minutes  
-I wonder why Ratcht didn't want Prowl or Jazz to know about this...it seems odd, considering Prowl's mentioned here. Is he Mother's sparkling? Where does that put Jazz? Do they know?  
-I'm guessing this chapter takes place around 20 stellar cycles (years) after the last chapter... not entirely sure, though (Ratchet doesn't always make note of dates in his journals)._

_-Cybertronians don't shake hands. Instead they raise their palms upwards, the backs parallel to the ground. This motion is a friendly gesture, done with close friends or acquaintances. For stranger they raise their hands, palms facing the other, perpendicular to the ground. They do not touch in greeting (they are not tactile creatures) nor do they see touching as an intimate gesture._

_-A repairmech's _ekszika_ is similar to a heavy apron that a blacksmith, welder, or metalworker would wear. It is made of thin, woven strands of wire in a fashion similar to Earth's weaving and is tied around the neck, waist, and legs with knots behind the neck, back, and knees. There are also woven sleeves that can be added depending on the type of job. These tie at the shoulder. There are large pockets with buttons and zippers along the belly and legs though the amount and size depends on the type of repairmech. Russ would have medium-sized deep pockets with zippers along the tops to be able to maneuver around the machines as needed. Here tools would be stored as needed.  
_

* * *

Prowl kicked his legs childishly as he waited for Ratchet to finish. Uncle Jack chuckled at his infantile patience and patted his helm before continuing on his way. Papa Ratchet always insisted on making sure that everyone was as healthy as he could make them before he left the clinic. There was no one he loved more than his Papa Ratchet.

He loved the large grey chevron on his brow, how it stood out against his red and white paint, how it gave him an imposing, fearsome look. He loved his Papa Ratchet more than he loved Agara, the little cyberwolf doll he had gotten as a secret gift his last creation day celebration. Prowl hugged Agara tightly to his chest as if to ask for forgiveness from the doll for his disregard. Agara said nothing, but he was a doll.

Prowl wished that Agara would talk to him. He loved his Papa Ratchet, but sometimes he was so busy that he didn't have that much time for Prowl. He understood, though. Papa Ratchet was a medic and he saved lives and helped people. He loved his Papa Ratchet for doing that, for being so adamant about helping people. Prowl kicked his legs again, giving a childish pout into the air. There was no one in the waiting room anymore, but there were still people in the clinic's rooms. He could hear them and he could hear Papa Ratchet and Uncle Wheeljack working.

He stood up carefully, holding Agara tightly to his chest. He tottered over to the door and opened it. Papa Ratchet and Uncle Wheeljack had told him never to leave the clinic, but there were no windows here in the still air and his sense of smell couldn't pick up anything of interest in the musty, heavy room. The door slid open after he used Agara's nose to push the green button.

With Agara in his hands he stood in the doorway, watching the squat, fat transports trundle along past him, filled with lumpy covering things. His nose twitched as a breath of air ghosted past it and he smiled, feeling as if the air itself lightened. There was a little bench near the road and Prowl hesitated. It wasn't _too_ far away from the clinic. He tottered over after another moment of hesitation only to realize that the bench was far too high.

Prowl looked around and pouted. No one was around to pick him up and put him on the bench. Only Agara was with him, and Agara was a doll. Another transport trundled by and the cover flipped upwards to reveal something glowing underneath. Prowl was intrigued. Something glowing?

"Now what, Agawa?" he asked, looking at the painted optics of his companion. It said nothing, but it seemed at ease. "Yeah," he said, holding it to his chest. "Lyet's go." Prowl walked carefully to the corner of the street and looked around. Papa Ratchet had always told him to look both ways before crossing the street. With Agara in tow he obeyed, trotting carefully across the street before another transport could wander by. He wanted to be on the right side of the street to follow the transport back.

He was rewarded for his patience as another transport trundled along around the corner and he trotted clumsily over. There he stopped, optics widening almost comically. There was a big building there, one that was even larger than the clinics where Papa Ratchet worked. A big door opened near the back and he could see people loading glowing things on to the opened transport, covering peeled back to reveal that its load was half done.

The building gave off a heavy growling, shaking the air but Prowl wasn't afraid. With childish bravery he squared his tiny shoulders and holding Agara to his chest, walked toward it.

Prowl was first noticed by a red and blue mech but by that time he was already well into the building, standing next to a massive machine that growled and spat. Prowl didn't notice, leaning against a railing to watch the glowing pink stuff swirl and splash around in the tubing. "Uh…" Prowl looked up at the mech, both of them staring blankly at each other. The other mech frowned and Prowl's fuel tanks sank. He was in _so_ much trouble.

* * *

Ratchet muttered to himself as he cleaned up, grumbling about working-class citizens in Iacon who had no sense in regards to their injuries. Even as he muttered it he apologized for it: he had never been on the other side of poverty before, but even with his minimal wages as a full-time medic it was hard to keep up with Prowl's sparkling nature. The letters of credit that Russet sent every once in a while helped, too. Even so it was tough raising a sparkling as a single parent. Granted Wheeljack and Perceptor helped once in a while, and he could even drop Prowl off at the Complex (Serenade, Sentinel, and Ironhide had already volunteered to watch him if need be) but there was only so much they could do.

Thinking of Russet made his spark clench. He missed that misbegotten femme. She didn't write, didn't visit: just dropped off letters of credit on their front door as well as creation day gifts for Prowl. He had never seen her in just over twenty stellar cycles and it was grating on him.

Prowl. The little sparkling was the sweetest thing. Ratchet felt bad as he cleaned up his tools. He had felt that it was right to adopt Prowl from the orphanage where Russet had left him, but if _anyone_ saw the innocent optics of that little sparkling their sparks would melt. He was so understanding but it was just cruel to leave him behind in the clinic while he worked.

_I'll arrange study session with Sentinel or something_, he told himself, mentally cataloguing it with all the other information he had to keep track of. _At least I have the day off tomorrow. Then we can go to the park or something. That should make him happy._

He checked his tools before putting them away in subspace and walking out. The waiting room was empty. He swore under his breath as he checked his chronometer: it was nearly three groons after the time he was supposed to end. Cursing his inability to see anyone in pain, he raced to the door which, he now noticed, was wide open.

Ratchet looked around frantically. Any reluctance in taking Prowl in vanished in an instant. He nearly melted with relief when he saw the tiny little sparkling walking cheerily beside a black and white mech with a pale blue visor. "Prowl!"

The little sparkling looked up abruptly, stumbling. The mech caught him gently and the tiny sparkling wrapped his stubby arms tightly around the mech's leg, burying his face in the smooth metal. The stranger-mech turned his optics toward Ratchet and his lips turned slightly downward in a frown. "Are ya his guardian?"

The medic paused. "Yes. I'm Ratchet, a medic."

Prowl cowered behind the mech's leg, optics wide. "Hee's mad at me, Jazzy." he told the mech.

Jazzy picked up the sparkling gently, stroking the small face. "Well, Prowlie, y' did jus' scare 'im. Now go 'pologize."

The sparkling offered the mech a pouty look that Ratchet knew no one could refuse: he was just _that_ cute. The mech just patted his head and set him down as if the look didn't affect him. Prowl hugged the cyberwolf doll to his chest, pressing his side against Jazzy's leg. "Sowwy, Papa Watchet."

Ratchet had to breathe a sigh of relief, kneeling down and opening his arms. "Just don't scare me like that," he said as Prowl raced over to give him a big hug. "Why did you walk off?"

Jazzy laughed now. "'E's a sparklin', Ratchet." He said warmly. "They 'ave shor' 'ttention spans an' Prowler 'ere saw th' Energon transports goin' from th' plant o'er there."

Prowl looked guilty at that and shuffled his feet. "The Energon plant?"

The mech laughed. "Yep. Mah friend's boss found 'im an' 'e asked me t' take 'im back home since it was on th' way."

Ratchet shook his head. "Thanks. What was your name?"

A wide grin beneath the pale visor. "Jazz. Prowler 'ere calls m' 'Jazzy,' though."

"Jazzy sings!" Prowl interjected, giggling. "Sing, Jazzy!"

Jazz laughed. "Nah, not now, Prowler, bu' Ai' promise tha' I'll sing fer ya later."

"Pwomise?" Prowl asked suspiciously.

The mech patted the sparkling's head gently. "I promise, Prowler. Now go wi' yer Papa Ratchet now."

Ratchet looked up at Jazz. "Thank you _so_ much," he said in an undertone.

Jazz's lip twisted upwards in a smirk. "No problem, Ratch." With a two-fingered salute he sauntered off as Prowl giggled.

"You're not so cheery with me," Ratchet murmured, putting the sparkling on his hip as he walked down the street.

Prowl buried his face in his doll's fur. "Jazzy's funny." He said. He kicked his legs awkwardly. "He's fun and he sings!"

"He sang for you?" Ratchet asked as they caught the public transport nearby.

The sparkling nodded and hugged his doll to his chest. "He says he'll wite a song fo me."

Ratchet's brow rose. "He will?" artisans like Jazz appeared to be were hard to come by. Good ones were even rarer. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of singer this Jazz mech was.

Prowl had fallen into recharge by the time they got home, helm nestled into the crook of Ratchet's neck. "Somethin' happen, Ratch?" 'Jack asked, eyeing Prowl thoughtfully.

The medic sighed and shook his head, careful to not jostle the sparkling too much. "Prowl here wandered off. Found his way to the Energon processing plant across the street from the clinic."

Wheeljack winced, no doubt thinking of all the trouble the curious sparkling could've gotten into. "He's okay, right?"

Ratchet nodded, taking Prowl to his room and placing him on the small berth, watching in amusement as the sparkling curled around his doll. "He should be fine," Ratchet assured him. "I don't know what to do with him tomorrow, though." He admitted as they walked out of the room. Quickly he explained what happened with their encounter with Jazz while Wheeljack listened intently.

"Jazz? Hm… sounds familiar." The engineering intern picked up the newsreel nearby and scrolled through it. "Ah. Here he is." He turned it and showed Ratchet the hologram of the mech that had picked up Prowl sans the visor. A mech stood behind him with Jazz's arm resting in the crook of the mech's elbow.

"He's blind?" Ratchet asked with a frown. _That would explain why he was immune to Prowl's pout._

"That's what it says here," Wheeljack said. "That mech in the back? That's his aide. He guides him around during showtimes but during the day it says he works or goes to classes."

Ratchet frowned. "And the shows are at _night_?" he shook his head. "I can see Jazz sleeping in during the day, but his aide going to school _and_ working? It's hard enough for me to get through my shifts at the clinic!"

His friend shrugged. "Primus only knows."

The medic shook his head ruefully. "Indeed." The scarlet and steel-gray mech looked so familiar… He shook it off. He had things to do and a sparkling to care for, after all. Now was not the time to reminisce on ghosts of the past.

* * *

Prowl hummed, kicking his legs as he sat on the bench in the transport. His smile was wide and he offered the female passengers who sat across from him a childish grin. As ever, his cyberwolf doll was at his side, paws folded so it sat in his lap.

"You're so cute," one of the femmes giggled, folding her legs. Her knapsack was leaned against her side, half-opened to reveal data-pads filled with notes in a neat, cursive script.

"What do you say?" Ratchet asked, judging Prowl gently.

The sparkling smiled again. "Tank youu." He said carefully.

"How old?" the second femme asked, giggling with her friend.

Ratchet patted Prowl's shoulder. "Twenty stellar cycles."

The first femme whistled. Her optics flashed around the transport: they were alone. "Are you sure you should take him to the edges of Iacon? It can be pretty dangerous."

"Agawa and Papa Watchet pwotect me." Prowl said, holding up his doll. "An' Wrass says he'll pwotect me too."

The second femme chuckled but said nothing to the sparkling and his firm belief that his doll and his papa would protect him from the dockside. She turned instead to Ratchet. "Hey, I recognize you. You repaired Dion after that accident he had with the processor. His crushed arm."

Prowl wasn't listening by now, entranced by the first femme who had shot the second a hard glance at being so open about ideas that shouldn't be considered – or heard – by a sparkling. "I remember. Stupidest thing." Ratchet shook his head.

She held out a hand in greeting. "I'm Ariel. This is my sister-in-work Chromia."

Ratchet returned the gesture. "Ratchet, as you know, a medic. This is Prowl, my son through adoption."

Chromia smiled. "That's so sweet." She turned to Prowl. "Do you want to be a medic, too?"

Prowl smiled. "Ya!"

Ariel looked up. "Our stop is coming up." Indeed, the transport disembarking point was approaching, the sign across the street from the clinic.

The sparkling looked up at Ratchet. "Go?"

Ratchet started in surprise before agreeing. Prowl took his hand and walked carefully down the stairs, his doll clutched tightly beneath his arm. He shrugged helplessly at the two giggling femmes. "I promised him we'd go anywhere he wanted today." He turned to the sparkling. "Where _are_ we going, Prowl? I thought you wanted to go to the park?"

"No!" Prowl said with a childish grin. "Go see Wrass!"

They turned with the femmes toward the processing plant. Ariel frowned down at Prowl. "Now I know why you look so familiar! You're that sparkling we heard about." She nudged Chromia. "Wasn't Dion and Orion telling us that they found a sparkling wandering around?"

Ratchet listened interestedly. Why didn't _they_ bring Prowl back? Why did Jazz? What was he doing there? Chromia frowned thoughtfully. "The one Russ found?"

That got Ratchet's attention but he said nothing. Ariel nodded. "Yeah." She shook her head. "Orion has virtually no child skills." She reached into her subspace pocket and gave Prowl an Energon goodie. "I'm sorry for Orion." She looked up at Ratchet. "My Orion made him cry. Dion told us."

"We beat him up for it, though." Chromia added, and impish smirk curling her lips. She turned to Prowl. "Where did Dion take you?"

Prowl gave a beautiful smile. "He tol' Wrass to take me home." He frowned. "Jazzy said he wood."

"Jazz?" Chromia's optic ridges rose incredulously. "Why was _he_ here?"

Ratchet frowned as if he didn't know or understand. "He doesn't work here?"

Ariel tossed her head after shaking it in a 'no' fashion. "He's an artisan, but occasionally Russ forgets something and Jazz brings it to him."

"Russ?" Ratchet echoed. It was as strange a name to him as _Ariel_.

Chromia nodded. "I work with him. I'm the production engineer for Block A, and Russ is the mechanic that fixes or updates the machines. Poor mech doesn't get a break."

A red and blue mech looked up as they entered, frowning as he walked over. "I didn't know we had visitors scheduled." He caught sight of Prowl and stopped.

Ariel shook her head, putting a pink hand to his cheek in a sweetheart's gesture. "Prowl here wanted to visit Russ." There was a harsh tone to her voice that even the blue and red mech couldn't deny.

"He should be in Block A already, right?" Chromia asked, shifting her bag on her shoulder.

The mech – Ratchet guessed he was Orion – sighed at last, pulling out a data-pad and consulting it. "Tailgate called in sick and Dion reported a failure in the processor in Block D. I sent him down there to do some repairs about a cycle ago."

Chromia didn't look amused. "Block D? Are you kidding me? You _know_ the repair crew there doesn't like him." she paused. "Who's he working with if I'm not there?"

Orion sighed and checked the data-pad. "Diode. And before you yell at me, we had no choice. We have severe processor failure there because vandals broke in and trashed it. Russ and Diode were the best we had at the moment."

Ariel flicked her mech in the cheek. From his wince it hurt. "Adjust them. If Russ _has_ to work in Block D, then get Chromia to work with him. They work better together at any rate."

Ratchet glanced down and noticed, with no little amount of chagrin, that Prowl was missing once more. The three workers were still arguing amongst themselves so Ratchet turned to look for his sparkling. He found the little bugger not too far away, tottering across the floor in a wide open space. "Prowl," he hissed, running after the errant sparkling. Ratchet scooped him up. "What are you doing?"

He paused long enough to make sure that Prowl was properly chastened before beginning to walk back. "Hey! Watch out!" he whirled in surprise to see a transport – a transformer – lock his brakes as he skidded toward them. On the verge of stopping a length or so away, a hideous crunching sound – the sound of another transport running into the mech-transport at full tilt – sent it lunging toward the two who stood frozen in place.

For the second time in his life, Ratchet saw his life flash before his optics, but it wasn't his own welfare that worried him. It was Prowl's. Unconsciously he felt himself send out a distress call to Russet. Their bond echoed hollowly as the mech-transport neared them. He had enough time and presence of mind to turn so that his back was facing the transport. It lessened the chances of Prowl being killed.

There was a loud crunch again and the sound of groaning metal. A leg brushed against Ratchet's and after a moment, when he realized that they hadn't been run over yet, turned around.

A massive mech was leaning against the stasis-locked transport, legs straight while he shoved his shoulder against the momentum of both crashed transports. The metal groaned and buckled and the mech was pushed back a big more, nudging Ratchet hard with his skidplate as his feet screeched along the ground.

The medic darted aside with Prowl curled up in his arms. Once he was gone, the mech released his tenuous hold on the transport and allowed it to bump his abdominal plating, having slowed greatly.

"What the Pit happened?" Chromia demanded, running over to the mech who was cycling air noticeably.

"Transport crash," the mech said between draws of air to cool his systems. "That jerk in the back…was speeding around the corner." He stood and stretched to the sound of pops and clicks of his armor shifting and the joints realigning.

Ratchet got a good long look at the mech. He was taller than both him and Ironhide but almost a head shorter than Sentinel and Forge. His shoulders were slightly broader than average and he had, strangely enough, slight curves instead of the boxy, straight lines of most mechs. The red and grey mech regarded him with thoughtful gold optics and Ratchet shivered at the alien look. He wore a repairmech's _ekszika_ _(see above Narzenim's Notes)_over his armor, with specially-fitted gloves over his hands. As he thought and regarded Ratchet he pulled off the gloves and shoved them in one of the _ekszika_'s pockets. Chromia fussed around him, checking him for injuries.

"I'm fine, Chromia," he said at last, becoming impatient. The sound of his voice reached Prowl and he lifted his face from Ratchet's neck.

"Wrass!" he cried with glee. The mech gave a miniscule smile.

"You've been known to work yourself to stasis-lock before, Russ." She said firmly, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. Russ just gave her a disarming grin.

"Why aren't you in Block D, Russ?" Orion asked sharply.

Russ snorted and flapped a hand at him. "Well, for one, I finished the work on the processor: it was just jammed. Then I fixed two transports on the way here before running out of supplies. I've been called on break by the Boss and now I see I'll have to forgo that break in favor of patching these two lunatics up." He gestured sharply at the two transports. He squared his shoulders and set his feet apart in a widely-balanced stance as if challenging Orion to do something.

Ariel frowned deeply as she walked over. "Orion, don't test him, he's obviously had a bad morning." She turned and appraised Russ. "You look like slag."

Russ sneered at her but it wasn't particularly aggressive. "You would too if you were digging around through transports and processors to find problems that didn't exist."

Orion sputtered. "Dion said there was a malfunction!"

"Dion is not a trained engineer." Chromia said simply. "He's a dockworker, Orion, not a warehouse-worker! What was he doing in there in the first place?"

Prowl decided then that the adults were talking about boring things and they had better start paying attention to him. _Now_. "Wrass!"

The massive mech turned his head and relaxed, offering the sparkling a winning smile. "Hey, Pwowl." He teased, ignoring his bickering coworkers in favor of walking over to Prowl and Ratchet.

The sparkling's face twisted into some semblance of indignation. "My name's not 'Pwowl.'" He said. "Is's Pwaol!"

Russ laughed, a low rumbling sound that made Prowl laugh, reaching for the mech. After looking at Ratchet for permission, Russ transferred him into his arms, swinging the sparkling around, much to Prowl's delight. "If you say so…" he gave a wicked smirk. "'Pwaol.'"

Prowl pouted and Russ laughed, swinging the sparkling over his wide shoulders. Russ looked at Ratchet, and the medic noticed uneasily that he had gold optics. "What brings you here?"

He could've been addressing Prowl for all his optics were trained fully on Ratchet. As if he knew that Ratchet was Prowl's caretaker-slash-legal guardian. "Wantsed to see you an Jazzy." Prowl said enthusiastically, kicking his legs while hanging on to the almost conical protrusions from Russ's helm.

Russ laughed, spinning around. "Did you, now?"

Another mech walked up and raised a brow ridge upon seeing the commotion. "I thought I told you to go on break, Russ?" he said.

The mech turned and gave a disarming grin, snapping into a smart salute. "Yessir you did, but these two idiots here got into a crash, Orion's irritated that I haven't 'finished' my repairs – if you could call them that, forgive me, sir – and that I'm being a pain in the skidplate." He motioned up to the sparkling on his shoulders and at Ratchet. "This was the sparkling that Orion had found last solar cycle. He wanted to see me and dragged his guardian into it."

The mech's brow ridge rose once more, having lowered during Russ's speech. "I see." He said at last. "Well, Russ, take the rest of the day off, then."

Orion sputtered. "But, sir…"

The mech – obviously the boss of them – waved him off. "He has already done his fair share of work and has worked for overtime as well. He deserves a break." He turned to Russ. "Go."

Russ grinned. "Thanks, sir, but what about-"

"Chromia, too. You both deserve a break. Go before I change my mind." Now the mech sounded amused.

They went.

* * *

**I know Prowl's troubles. Instead of saying my name was 'Erin,' I'd end up saying 'Eiwen' and that I was 'foi.' When I went to Georgia and met a friend of my cousin's (whose name was Aaron) I'd get so mad because they'd call one of our names and we'd both look. Eventually they started calling our names at random times just to see us jump... Anyway, Aaron used to tease me and ask me what my name was. Of course, I'd say 'Eiwen' or 'Aawen,' or something along those lines and he'd ask, 'Aaron?' Of course I'd get angry and stomp and get all _habut_ and say '_no_. I'm Aawen!'**

**When I went back two years ago he saw me. Our family said that when they told him I was coming, he had asked, "Is Erin the girl whose name is Aawen and who's foi?" Of course (thank God) they had told him that I was no longer 'foi' but yes, that was who was coming.**


	14. Give Me Your Eyes For Just One Second

**Back from Cali. Spent my week in Cupertino (I think I spelled that right...), went to Great America, saw _Wicked_, messed around, went to the YMCA, and became a serving girl for my cousin's graduation party. :) It was fun, even if my aunty seemed out to get me.**

**Note: Chapter title borrowed from _Give me your eyes_ by Brandon Heath. Do not own.**

_**I've been here a million times  
A couple of million eyes  
Just move and pass me by  
I swear I never thought that I was wrong  
I need a second glance  
Give me a second chance  
To see the way you've seen the people all along**_

_**Give me your eyes for just one second  
Give me your eyes so I can see  
Everything that I keep missing  
Give me your love for humanity  
Give me your arms for the broken hearted  
The ones that are far beyond my reach  
Give me you heart for the ones forgotten  
Give me your eyes so I can see**_

* * *

_Narzenim's Notes:  
-20 stellar cycles seems like a long time, right? In Earth years someone who is 20 stellar cycles are legal adults who aren't allowed to drink. However, in some of the longer-lived races (in this case Cybertronians) it is nothing compared to their long lives. According to Ratchet, one becomes a legal adult at the age of 83, a vorn. Prowl is 20 stellar cycles old at this point, but he has the mentality of a 4 or 5 year-old.  
-I really think that Ratchet and Mother have a thing for each other. Am I the only one that thinks this? Well, I know 'Gali, Jazz, and Prowl at least agree  
-Speaking of Prowl, he's been pretty quiet lately. He seems to be collapsing inward on himself. As if he's hiding something from us, that he feels guilty for. I dare not read his mind. It is very rude and the last time I did so (granted I was still very young) I got into trouble. I will wait until he comes to me though I am not happy about it._

* * *

Russ walked along, long strides forcing Ratchet to rush to keep up with him. Seeing this he slowed his pace slightly with an apologetic smile as Prowl talked contentedly on his shoulders.

"So where are you from?" Ratchet asked Russ during a lull in the conversation. He noticed that while Russ's voice was mostly unaccented he had a slight accent buried beneath.

Russ's optics flashed to his thoughtfully, golden glass glinting. "I was raised in Kalis." Ratchet realized then that his accent wasn't quite from Kalis. "I don't know where I was sparked."

Ratchet frowned. "How can you not know?" all sparklings knew where they were sparked! Their parents had told them, of course. Even Prowl knew that he had been sparked in Iacon near the Academy district.

The mech shrugged, causing Prowl to giggle at the movement. "I was an abandoned sparkling and my parents were murdered a few stellar cycles later. Even the orphanage and my foster father didn't know where I was sparked." His face turned into a scowl. "They didn't care anyway."

Ratchet frowned but anything he was about was interrupted as Russ lifted an arm, pointing to a park across the street. "This is the most decent one you'll find here. I used to come here every day to sit and study. It's really quiet and gated in."

"Go pway?" Prowl asked, clapping and kicking in glee.

Russ smiled up at him, seemingly not noticing the dull kicks aimed at his chest from the sparkling. "Go ask your Papa Ratchet." He said gently.

The sparkling turned eagerly to Ratchet. "Go pway? Pweease?"

Ratchet cast a glance at Russ who said nothing. "All right, but only for a little while."

Prowl squealed in glee and bounced from his precarious perch, causing Russ to wrap his large hands around the sparkling's legs to keep him from falling off. Together they crossed the street and once in the park the sparkling was released with warnings not to wander too far. Russ and Ratchet sat on a nearby bench, the former leaning back in what Ratchet thought would be an uncomfortable position.

"So how's the life of a single parent, Ratch?" Russ asked casually, head tilted back and optics offlined.

The medic blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Well I assume Jack and Percy help out every once in a while, and knowing Sentinel he wouldn't be able to resist a sparkling. Serenade, too." The mech said, leg twitching.

Ratchet stuttered and made odd noises as he tried to think of an intelligent reply or query. All he could come up with was "_What_?"

A golden optic onlined, the lens whirring to bring him into focus. Then Russ shifted into a sitting position, steepling his fingers and onlining his other optic. "Your scent is the same, and you have the same appearance and mannerisms and personality. I cannot be wrong in this instance."

'_Surely you recognize me, Ratch?'_

Ratchet leapt to his feet. Russ merely stared after him, optics becoming cold. The medic tried to make noise, to speak, say _something_. When nothing came forth, Russ's – the alias his old friend Russet had came up with – rippled and disappeared as if a blanket matching the print of the bench and park behind her had been draped over her. She was gone as if she had never been there.

'_Russ?'_ Ratchet asked in a small voice, collapsing without support onto the bench. He was close to tears.

Ghostly fingers glided along his shoulders. Russet was still there. She was being shy. Her breath – so unlike everyone else he had met and treated in the clinics – tickled the sensors in the top of his head. _'We are here.'_

Ratchet searched for a hand and found a wrist. Close enough. He had so many things to tell her. Thoughts rose unbidden into his cortex of hitting her for abandoning him and Prowl and their friends, for not writing; yelling at her for just leaving without a proper goodbye. He pushed those aside. That could come later. He wanted nothing more than to hug her, wrap his arms around her broad shoulders, the almost mech-ish appearance of her and cry. He missed her so much.

'_We missed you too.'_

'_**Jazz is here. He will watch Prowl.'**_ Ranthanoss added. It was soothing to hear both of their voices again, even if it was in his cortex.

'_Ran, Russ,'_ he breathed.

'_**We are here.'**_

The ghostly fingers slowed into a soothing massage, drawing aimless circles along the armor of his back. He smiled and leaned back. To anyone else it would've appeared as if he was leaning against the bench. Only he and Russet knew that he was actually leaning back against her, taking comfort from her proximity.

* * *

_Present day…_

I had not realized how keenly the Captain would be lost until our first skirmish without her. Everything had gone well after Amina had reported the pirates bringing us into our sights and I felt the entire ship shudder and wait for Captain's orders.

We had completely forgotten that the true Captain of the _Jossine_ was gone, and Prowl, Jumper, and I had to fill in those massive footprints in her stead.

More than once Fegali found me in our quarters, curled up on my berth sick to my bones in misery. Most of it was mine; the rest was from the crew of the ship, all of which knew her well enough to keenly feel that gaping hole from her absence.

I heard Windcharger thinking a few ship-days ago. If _he_ and almost the entire crew had been restored after Autobot City, why not our dear Captain? I found solace most often in the Memorial Room, one of the two things that made the _Jossine_ famous. The brave blue optics and defiant stances of the paintings always calmed me, but I always found myself staring, counting the dead. I knew most of them, of course: Ratchet, Wheeljack, Windcharger, Windslasher, Ironhide, Red Alert, Prowl, Optimus Prime, Skywarp. There was a lot in the Memorial Room, but I found myself looking through the waves of familiar optics for a pair of gold ones. My Mother never met my gaze and I'd be swarmed with the thoughts and memories of the dead, dying, and mourning.

I rarely ever "heard" what happened, but rather the emotions attached to the visitors of the Memorial Room. I loved going there because I could always feel Mother's eternal patience. Painting in such detail of dead friends makes you a patient person, for you don't want to mess up their memories by painting them wrong. It was rare that I felt the memory of an event, but it may have been my exhaustion and misery that led to this new facet of my powers. It may also have been Amina, but as she rarely turned on her cameras or sensors in the Memorial Room, it was unlikely.

The voices came and I listened, closing my eyes to concentrate further on the ethereal noises. _"Why did you ask me to come here?"_ I recognized Prowl's distinctive voice.

There was a groan of metal, a Cybertronian shrug. _"I wished to speak with you."_

My tail curled around my ankles. Mother? _"About what?"_

A long pause. There were clicks and I realized that it was Mother walking – pacing – around the room. _"Ratchet tells me you wish to know who your true creators are."_ It wasn't a question.

"_Of course. Wouldn't you?"_

"_I am like you in many ways, Prowl."_ She said quietly. _"I, too, have never known my creators. But if you wish, I will tell you."_

"_You knew?"_ Prowl's voice became deadly, a rare feat for one so calm as him. _"All these years you knew my true creators and you didn't tell me?"_

Mother paused. _"You were not ready."_ She said at last, very quietly.

Prowl released air from his vents in a sigh. _"I'm ready now."_ His voice shook very slightly, but I knew it was enough for Mother to pick up on it. She was always very perceptive, especially when it came to her pack. _"Who was my paternal creator?"_

Another pause and more clicks: Mother resumed her pacing. _"He was what you would call a Seeker. In those times they were not given fancy names; there were no groundlings or Seekers. They were all just soldiers. His name was Sky Dance._" Another pause. _"He was the best at what he did and I once loved him very much."_

There was silence, save for the low clicks of Mother's claws on the deck. Prowl was warring with his feelings, I knew. _"What happened to him?"_ he was speaking more of Mother's experience (so he thought) with his paternal creator.

"_He was unfaithful and my love turned to hatred. As that guy on Earth says, _'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.'"

"_Is he dead?"_

"_His weapon malfunctioned on the battlefield. So did his engines, but I can honestly say that I had nothing to do with it as he had abandoned me to go to war."_ Was the reply.

There was a pause as Prowl processed that bit of information. _"And my maternal creator?"_

There was a rough sound like a cross between a box of screws rattling in a box and a garbled sound of static. _"She was a fool."_

A groan as (I was sure) Prowl clenched his fists. _"Hear me out, Prowl, before you throw yourself at me."_ Mother said, clicks disappearing as she stopped her nervous pacing. _"She was a fool for she believed that Sky Dance would be faithful to her when anyone with optics could tell his true love lay with the open sky just as hers lied with machines and fights and free spaces to roam and independence to do and become anything she wished."_

Prowl paused and the air was heavy with tension. _"What was her name?"_ he asked at last, wary.

"_Windtreader, but that would not be the name you would know her by."_

"_Have I met her?"_

"_Of course."_

Prowl hesitated. _"What would I know her as?"_

This time it was Mother who was silent. _"Russet or Blade."_ She said very quietly. _"Narzenim calls her Mother, and most others simply call her Captain."_

"You."

Mother was silent. Who wouldn't, when Prowl who was always calm exploded in their face? An angry Prowl was a very scary thing.

"_All these vorns you knew and you didn't tell me?"_ Mother said nothing and silently I applauded her. Her sharp vocalizer would've turned Prowl savage with rage. Then he said something I didn't expect to ever hear from him. _"I hate you!"_ he roared. I heard a sound like metal striking metal before heavy, furious stomps. He hit her.

"_Oh, Prowl."_ Mother said quietly. _"My dear spark. It seems that I will die with his hate burning me up."_

I shivered as I felt hands shake my arm. Human hands, calloused and warm. There was only one human aboard that would dare do such to me. I opened my eyes and stared into Coby's worried blue eyes. Mother's last words to us as she died echoed hauntingly in my memory. _I will die with your hatred burning me up even as this scourge devours me. Which is worse to die from, I wonder?_

"Narz?" Coby asked quietly. "Are you all right?"

_No,_ I wanted to tell him. _I'm not all right. I'll never _be_ all right. My Mother is gone. My Brother hates her. He _hit_ her. She died with the knowledge of his hatred burning in her cortex and her spark._

My people were incapable of crying the way humans did. Shedding tears only happened when grit got in our overly-large, pupil-less eyes. Before Coby's startled gaze, my fur and tail disappeared as I became human. I cried and sobbed, my heart feeling as if it was being torn to shreds.

_My dear Brother,_ I thought. _How can you be so blind?_

Coby, my only true human friend among the crew, gave me a hug as I cried. He never asked what made me sad, nor did he ever try to guess or make assumptions. I loved him for it. Like Fegali, his calm thoughts always lulled me into a pensive, peaceful state.

* * *

**Random Questions:**

**_1)Why does Narzenim keep appearing in her narration of her Mother's life?_ _Isn't this about Russ/Russet/Ranthanoss and not her?_  
Well, this is happening as her life goes on. I believe that it started a week after Windtreader died (or so), so she's taking time out of her schedule to document her Mother's life, and this is actually her draft. So of course she'd jot down notes and realizations she became aware of during the course of her writing. Honestly, am I the only one that writes notes on my documents as I write?**

**_2) Brother? Mother? Captain?_  
She sees the crew of the _Jossine_ as her family, especially Jazz, Prowl, Windtreader, Windslasher, Barricade (to some extent), Firebird, Jumper, and Ratchet. And honestly, _Captain Windtreader_ is a bit much to say, so most of the crew just call her the Captain. It's pretty surprising how often they call her Captain instead of Russ or Blade.**

**_3) What _is_ Narzenim, anyway?  
_Narzenim is an alien, that much we have gathered. She also has a relatively humanoid appearance. For details, visit (http:// . com/ art/ Xarmixkealans -120469434) and here (http:// inabikaritamashii. deviantart. com/ art/ Narzenim- 120843064). Basically, however, she looks like a cat-woman-kirin. She has bright red hair, really big green eyes, claws on her hands and feet, and silver-gray fur like a snow leopard. She's a special "breed" of her race, one of the few who are able to shapeshift. All others are telepathic as she is, for they have no spoken language: they communicate in the language of thought and ideas rather than singular words. They (as in their race in general) find spoken words to be very limiting.  
Narzenim is a name given to her by Windtreader upon her adoption. Her actual name is Karinxka, but she didn't find that out until around five years before this story takes place. She still would rather go by Narzenim, however.  
Since he joined the crew of the _Jossine_, Coby became a good friend of Narzenim. She claims his thoughts lull her into a peaceful state. Think catnip with cats without the spazzy part. And the drug part.**


	15. Take Me Somewhere We Can Be Alone

_**AT A HUNDRED PAGES NOW!!! WHOOO!!**_

**Okay, the title...and the entire chapter...was inspired by _A Love Story (Romeo and Juliet)_ by Taylor Swift. You'll kinda see why later. **

**Note: Slight mentions of ((coughcough)), so be warned. Nothing graphic, though, and I'm sure it could be considered a passing mention.**

**So I sneak out to the garden to see you  
We keep quiet cause we're dead if they knew  
So close your eyes  
Escape this town for a little while**

** Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter  
And my daddy said stay away from Juliet  
But you were everything of me  
I was begging you please don't go, and I said **

**Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone  
I'll be waiting all there's left to do is run  
You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess  
It's a love story baby just say yes**

* * *

_40 stellar cycles later…_ **(I hadn't meant to jump this far, but that's how far Mother's logs went. There was only the odd sketch or a few entries where she didn't say much other than that she and Jazz had moved into Ratchet's house with Prowl, and so on and so forth. Important days to remember.)**

Russ walked down the street, having just gotten off the transport that would take her to her work. She paused as she reached the corner, senses prickling. Ranthanoss shifted within her and she quieted him lightly, turning to the source of the feeling. Being a fighter for so long tended to do that to you.

An ancient mech stared back at her, frowning. "Can I help you, old one?" she asked, making sure to keep her voice low as Russ's would sound.

"It is I who can help you, I believe." He said in reply. Russ inclined his head, silently imploring the mech to continue. "I am called Alpha Trion. And I know who you are, Dragon Twin."

A strange sense of foreboding washed over her. "Then I have naught to say in reply."

Alpha Trion's lips twisted upward in an amused smile, the metallic tendrils of his moustache shifting with its movements. "Come. I would like to speak with you in private if I may…?"

Russ cast a last glance at the processing plant. She was always early to work… she sighed and followed Alpha Trion into the dark building she assumed was his home. She treaded silently along the lines of lab equipment, watching the shadows as well as Alpha Trion carefully. One did not get where she was by being careless. As if reading her thoughts, the old mech turned on the lights. "What do you wish to speak about, Alpha Trion?"

The mech turned. "I have researched many things in my time. My favorite for a while had been the Dragon Twins in Kalis." Russ said nothing, eyeing him warily. "However, there are still some things that I wish to know."

A frown twisted her dark gray-silver lips downward. "And you just want me to give you a detailed account of my life? A total stranger?"

Alpha Trion shook his head 'no.' "I would not ask you if I did not have something to bargain with."

Russ was intrigued then and cursed herself for that little weakness. She inclined her head, urging the ancient mech to continue.

"I have researched the Dragon Twins for a long time," Alpha Trion said. "It became an obsession, enough that I looked through public and private records. I researched Keel Haul and everything he did, every shipment he imported, the backgrounds of his servants and slaves, and learned what very few people know: the true identities of the Dragon Twins."

"Surely you jest? It is true that I know not of my past or my true name before Keel Haul, but why should I give you accurate records of my life through my optics for only a small tidbit of information like that?"

The mech nodded. "I understand. You have lived without your true name for so long that it matters not to you if you knew it or not. In addition to your name, I can tell you about your family, and I can give you a boon for your troubles. It is not much, but I am aware that you enjoy learning and fighting in that order."

'_**Staa-lker.'**_ Ranthanoss sang in a sparkling's sing-song voice.

'_Hush.'_ Russ frowned as Alpha Trion continued. "I can get you passage on a research vessel headed towards the planets outside of our solar system. Toward the stars."

A stirring sense of longing rose in her. The feeling of freedom that it would give her would be enormous. And she had never been in a space-faring vessel before.

"So you would trade the information of my family and name, _and_ a research trip to the outer planets for _my_ information on _my_ life?" she asked skeptically. Even Ranthanoss felt the stirrings to accept, the itching to explore. He cautioned her to be careful but no more.

Alpha Trion nodded eagerly. "I'm a librarian and scientist. I wish to chronicle the most important histories of the most important events on the planet so they wouldn't be lost." He hesitated. "I only have a little information on the Dragon Twins that I've added to my collection. Compared to everything else, it's easily the smallest. Will you do it?"

Russ considered. _**'We don't have to tell him **_**everything.**_**'**_ Ranthanoss pointed out. _**'And if we get in a fix, we can always lie. He won't know the difference.'**_

'_So you approve?'_

'_**I didn't say that, but it sounds like a good offer.'**_

'_Information and a ticket off-planet in exchange for our life story?'_

'_**We don't have to tell him **_**everything.**_**'**_

'_Mmm…'_ Russ peered hard at the old mech. A single swipe of her claws could take off his head easily and with a stab of regret, she remembered the main reason she had given Prowl away. "All right."

She was rewarded with a great grin from the mech. She only felt slightly better about this whole deal.

* * *

Documenting a life's story – even for one who lived only around seventy stellar cycles – was a long and complicated process. Russ visited Alpha Trion only once every six days or so, and then only if she had time.

Jazz and Prowl had cemented the other in their sparks and refused to be parted, so Ratchet and Russet were forced to shuffle things around; Russet was given her old room back, with Ratchet having his own room and Jazz and Prowl sharing. It was just easier that way. Wheeljack had long since (so Russet learned) moved out with Percy to a small apartment closer to their workplaces. He still found the time to come back to check on Ratchet and Prowl at the clinic or at the small house. Wheeljack was just cool that way.

As for Jazz, he still had his nightly shows but he changed his schedules so they were more in the early evening than the late so he could have time to spend with Prowl who refused to leave his side. Ratchet was worried about their bond, but when Russet gave him a _look_, he subsided and allowed the blind mech to play with the sparkling.

It turned out that Jazz wasn't _fully_ blind, just _mostly_. Russ had said that she had met him on the streets and had taken him in, offering to fix his optics. Of course Jazz had agreed and she had done the best she could though the process was a long one. She had fixed them, but Jazz had not been used to the amount of information that came in through his optics so she had turned them down. Every once in a while once he was comfortable with the new setting, she'd turn them on a higher power so that eventually he'd have fully functional optics.

Ratchet had tried to convince her to stay at home with them; now that she didn't have to worry about rent and groceries for the tiny apartment she had shared with Jazz for a while, she didn't have to work to earn some income. Russ had straightened to her full height (at nearly seventeen feet, now) and told him very bluntly that she rarely worked for the income, but more for the enjoyment of working.

With a full day working and a few cycles spent taking Jazz (and Prowl who refused to part company with the artisan) to his performances, it was hard for her to find time to work with Alpha Trion. But the old mech was a patient one, and so long as he had Russ's word, he was content to wait for a few solar cycles longer than their original schedule.

It had taken a while, but at last Jazz's optics were working at full capacity and Alpha Trion's chronicle of the Twins' lives were recorded.

"Now for my part of the bargain." The ancient mech said, a stellar cycle after they started. "I promised you passage on a ship, and so it has been done. You'll leave in thirty solar cycles." He handed the data-pad to the massive femme who accepted it carefully. "Now I _also_ promised to tell you about your family. Come and have a seat and I'll tell you the whole thing."

Russ followed him into the sitting room, settling herself on a chair across from him and declining his offer of Energon. It took a breem for him to settle and every passing astrosecond ground on her nerves. She held herself together with the ease of long practice and waited.

"Sorry. Now, my research has revealed many secrets about you and your sister, including your real names. Which one of you is older?"

She shifted. "My sister. Gold."

Alpha Trion took out a data-pad and consulted it. "Well, you are twins, obviously. Originally from the nicer side of Iacon. Your parents were Shimmer and Pulse. Pulse was an Enforcer, famous for sinking his dental plates into a case and holding on like a starving Pit-Dragon." Russ's back armor shuddered almost invisibly. "Shimmer was a communications officer at the Iacon Complex. One of the best there ever was for all she had an accent." He checked his notes, scrolling down a bit. "They had three children: two femmes and one mech in that order. The femmes were called Windstreaker and Windtreader, sparked two stellar cycles before their younger brother, called Orion Pax."

Now Russ's back-armor jerked audibly and the old mech looked up at her. "I know that name."

The mech nodded solemnly though his optics still twinkled with that cheerful glee that Russ herself had never felt. "It does not surprise me that you do." He said quietly. "Shall I continue?"

Russ lowered her head to stare at her hands. She had a name now. One that was her own, not given to her by Keel Haul's servants, not one given to her by Sentinel, but one that was given to her – chosen as carefully, meticulously as she had with Prowl's – by her creators. She had a brother, the mech who she worked with. Orion Pax, who oversaw her work as a mechanic in Block A. It was almost hard to believe. Nearly too good – or bad – to be true.

'_**A brother,'**_ Ranthanoss breathed. Had he control over their body (and had they been wearing their outer armor) their back-spines would've rattled in a shiver.

She smiled inwardly and nodded at Alpha Trion to continue.

'_A name.'_ she said as she continued to listen to the accounts of their life from what the ancient mech had gathered. _'A life.'_

It was a wonderful feeling.

* * *

The data-pad with her passage on the _Star Searcher_ burned in her subspace pocket that night as they had their nightly ritual of drinking their Energon around the news vids.

Prowl shifted, frowning as reports of attacks, riots, and murders were broadcasted. "What's wrong?"

Immediately all optics turned to Russ and she sighed in exasperation. They always expected her to be able to explain the reasons of fighters. She had to hesitate, though. "There's mutiny among the workers," Russ told them quietly. "Something's making them uneasy and riots are spreading as prices rise."

Wheeljack, who had come over for our evening Energon frowned. "That's serious."

Russet nodded. "It doesn't affect my plant, though. Prices rose but not enough to be too significant. A credit or two per transport, and even then it's not that bad. Boss says he's heard that some of the other processing plants along the lines of Kaon and Kalis have doubled their prices."

Ratchet peered hard at her. "You know what's causing them unease."

The femme paused and looked down. Jazz shifted anxiously. "Russ," he said quietly. "Spit it out."

She sighed at last. "There's been whispers on the wind." She said quietly, voice lowering an octave as she shivered. "The military mechs are rising up. No one I've spoken to knows why, but word has it that they're planning something big."

"What has Aunt Gold said?" Prowl asked, the gravity of the situation sinking into him. Russet couldn't help but feel a stirring of pride at her sparkling – her youngling.

"Nothing much," she said regretfully. "But the plants are being targeted. Some of the rogue military mechs are attacking plants for their Energon, according to my whispers. That's why prices are rising."

Jazz shook his head, lips curling in a distasteful snarl. "As if the situation wasn't worse enough already."

Russet nodded reluctantly. She knew how expensive Energon was in the smaller cities, having grown up in somewhere other than Iacon. Jazz knew it as keenly as her, especially since he had been handicapped before. That made it so much worse, living in the slums. Adding insult to injury. You didn't need life telling you '_hey, by the way, you're handicapped._' As if you didn't need someone else telling you that you weren't worth even a credit for being blind. Hearing their voices laugh at you as you stumbled around like a common drunkard. No one to help you, support you, show you the way through the darkness.

Not for the first time she was glad she had been the only one to stop and help Jazz. Her spark warmed at the thought, doubling her thanks to Primus for that wise bit of insight when she had seen the blind mech tottering around. Her prayer quadrupled when she saw the way Prowl looked at her friend. _For once,_ she thought. _I've done something right._

Ranthanoss was queerly quiet. Thoughtful.

Ratchet's hand on her arm broke her from her reverie. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Calculating," she lied, for in the back of her mind she was aware that Ranthanoss was doing something similar. It was _sort of_ true. "How much Energon they've taken, numbers of rogues, locations, the rising of prices." She shook her head. "It's all going downhill." _'It may be the end of Iacon's Golden Age,'_ she told him very quietly.

He squeezed her arm and she felt the slightest pressure from his fingers. _'If it is, let us hope it doesn't affect us too bad.'_

Ranthanoss rumbled, uncoiling like an angry marsh-snake. _**'It will not,'**_ he said with such true conviction that they dared not argue. _**'Not much, anyway.'**_ He amended. _**'I have a feeling that something will happen. A catalyst that will change things greatly.'**_

They dared not argue, instead meeting the other's optics and tracing the sign of Primus on their palms for hope.

* * *

Russ sat on her berth, knees pulled awkwardly to her chest. The data-pad which had burned a hole in her spark and subspace pocket lay unresisting on the berth before her, lights of the screen casting garish shadows on the objects in her room.

'_Is this wise, Ran? Have I made the right choice?'_

The Pit-Dragon rumbled thoughtfully. _**'Leaving for this?'**_

'_Aye.'_

Ranthanoss rumbled again. _**'I cannot say.'**_ He said at last. _**'I am a Pit-Dragon, not an oracle,'**_ he added for spite.

Russet chuckled aloud for no one could hear her in her room. _'I did not say you were.'_

Her friend sighed. _**'I suppose, though, that it is good.'**_

She nudged the corner of the data-pad with a finger idly. _'But I would be leaving them. What happens if the Decepticons take over Iacon?'_

'_**We rush back and we fight.'**_

'_And if we don't get back in time? If we don't realize what happened until it was too late?'_

'_**We kill them.'**_

She expected no less from Ranthanoss and said so. The door slid open and she snatched the data-pad from the berth, shoving it into her subspace pocket as Ratchet walked in.

"What's up with you?" he asked.

Russet stood and walked to the corner of the room that held her outer armor. She picked up the heavy helm and inspected it. Dust – very little for she cared for it as often as she was able to – smudged her fingers as she thought of how to answer Ratchet.

"Nothing much." She said at last.

"You're hiding something." He accused.

"Naturally."

"I want to know what."

"Why?"

Patiently she found her cleaning supplies and got to work cleaning the helmet in her hands. With an exasperated sigh, Ratchet snatched a rag off the table and started working with her, scrubbing furiously at a scarred and scratched gauntlet.

"I'm worried about you," he snapped.

"We will tell you once you've calmed down." She told him calmly. Ranthanoss coiled and twisted within her anxiously.

They were silent for a long while and slowly Ratchet's shaking and furious cleaning eased off as he got to the delicate parts of the armor. Which was good considering she didn't want him to break her armor.

"Jazz and Prowl are getting close," he said stonily, trying to make conversation.

Russ smiled. "Very close," she agreed.

The medic looked up, moving to another piece of armor, this one from her shoulder. "You're not worried?"

She smiled again, concentrating on the helmet. "Jazz is very young," she said. "Granted he's older than Prowl, but he's just over a vorn now."

Her friend snorted. "That is hardly reassuring."

"It wasn't meant to be."

There was a loud noise as Ratchet slammed her shoulder armor on the berth where they sat. She winced, seeing that there was now a dent in her berth. "Aren't you worried about Prowl?"

She chuckled, returning to her cleaning. "We worry about him every day." She pointed out. "However, Jazz has already spoken to us and we have already threatened him enough to make you worry less."

Ratchet looked up in surprise and was greeted with a fanged grin. He gave a matching one (albeit fangless) in reply. "That eases my worries. Slightly, but enough."

They worked in silence, working slowly but neatly through each bit of armor, checking the catches and banishing the small amount of dust that had accumulated. "Why?" he asked suddenly and she almost jumped, slicing a delicate seam in her hand with the razor-bladed edge of one of her back-spines as she cleaned her back armor.

She hissed, pressing the small cut to her lips. It was a strange ritual that he'd seen both Twins do, but had never known the reason behind it. "Why do you do that?"

Russ grunted. "Habit." She said, saying nothing more on the subject. She took her hand away from her mouth and resumed her cleaning. "Why what?"

"Why are you suddenly cleaning your armor?"

There was silence for another moment. In answer, she pulled out the data-pad and handed it to him. Ratchet placed the rag and armor (he had been cleaning part of her belly armor) down to take the 'pad. There was a stifling silence as he read it through one, twice. "I'll need it," she said very quietly. "Space pirates are dangerous, especially around refugee planets."

The data-pad clattered as it was dropped and suddenly Ratchet was in her face (as much as he was able to due to their height difference). "You're leaving."

Sadness twisted within her spark but she forced her face and voice to remain steady. "I must leave sometime."

"You're leaving everyone…_me_…again?" the last was in a broken whisper.

Russ closed her optics and was glad that she was unable to cry, for her face would be wet by then. Ratchet's sure was. "Would you truly trap a turbohawk in a cage?"

Her arms were suddenly filled with nearly four tons of red and white mech. He seemed to have no answer for her. Then, "If by letting it go I would never see it again, I would cage it as much as my spark would be able to bear." He said, vocalizations muffled by his close proximity to her armor.

"And if it sickens and yearns for the sky and the feeling of freedom as the wind passes over its wings?" Ratchet truly had no answer for her there and buried his face in her armor. _'I truly don't want to leave you,'_ Russ told him, fingers skating down his back in a reassuring gesture. _'But…'_

'_There _has_ to be a "but" in there,'_ he sobbed ruefully.

Russet was worried. He was never this emotional and she held him tightly to her frame, resting her cheek on his helm, careful of his sharp chevrons. She lifted him and placed him on the berth, forcing them apart. "What's wrong, Ratch?"

'_I've just found you again,'_ he said forlornly, tugging her insistently back towards him. He buried his face in her neck, feeling the watery tensing and relaxing of the cables there. _'I lost you sixty stellar cycles ago and found you for the last forty.'_

Ranthanoss retreated into a corner of her mind and Ratchet could feel that he didn't want to get caught in the middle. He was tense and coiled anxiously. Russet was quiet, lifting a hand to trace his face. _'You've never lost me,'_ she told him quietly, both in his mind and out loud. _'And you never will.'_

'_And what of Prowl and Jazz?'_ it was an underhanded blow, but it needed to be said. _'Will you just leave them?'_

Russet lifted a red hand and rested it against her cheek. Unlike many other Cybertronians, she was a tactile creature, no doubt from her Pit-Dragon side. She touched and moved when she was nervous and now was no different. _'I leave them in your capable hands.'_

'_Hands of a medic, not a creator!'_ he snapped back.

She stared back at him, bright gold eyes holding a message he didn't want to accept. _Then what are my hands, if yours are hands of a healer but not creator? Are mine the claws of a killer?_

"I will return, Ratchet." She said very quietly, putting their foreheads together.

He marveled in the back of his brain on how tactile she was, how she craved that touch of sensors and metal plating. It may have been their influence on him, perhaps, but he could feel the delicious sensation of their armor brushing up against each other's, the cool feeling of Russet's "breath" across his face. "In ten stellar cycles," he said bitterly.

She lifted her hands and cradled his face. "What is ten stellar cycles to a race that lives for forever?" she asked. "It will be sooner than you realize."

Unexpectedly he entwined their fingers and held them up between them. "Promise?"

A smile drifted across her grey lips. "Promise."

* * *

_To a race that lives for forever, thirty solar cycles were hardly a flash of an optic,_ Russet reflected as she propped herself up on an elbow to watch Ratchet in his recharge. _Ten had passed already, twenty left._ She thought, trying not to reflect on the enormity of what she had just done. What _they_ had just done.

But her optics were sharp, even in the dark, and even with the small amount of light her optics cast she was able to see the thick cable between them. She shivered slightly and forced herself to think of her voyage with the _Star Searcher_.

She had twenty solar cycles left before she was gone for ten stellar cycles. Squashing those loud thoughts as Ratchet stirred, she ghosted her fingers along his abdominal plating and he stilled once more.

Ranthanoss shifted and twined as he woke. _**'Time to get up,'**_ he said.

'_Yeah,'_ she said, watching the medic in his recharge for a moment longer.

'_**Do you…?'**_

'_I do not know.'_

'_**You should figure it out before we leave.'**_

'_I know.'_

Ranthanoss sighed. _**'Let's get up. Let him recharge; he had a long day yesterday.'**_

Russet grunted in reply and with deft but delicate fingers she broke the connection and put away their cables before standing and stretching. But even this morning ritual of stretching and feeling the tense muscle-cables twisting and relaxing beneath her armor couldn't soothe the ache in her spark. With a silent snarl she stalked to the pile of her outer armor in the corner and set about putting it on piece by patient piece, feeling relieved by the familiar – and sorely missed – weight.

With a last glance at Ratchet, she walked out the door and into the hallway.

Wheeljack, Jazz, and Prowl found her there, sipping a cube of their 'morning fix.' It was a different type of Energon, one that stimulated the receptors in the drinker's system in order wake them up. She saw it as an unnecessary luxury, but it was always in the house for Ratchet, who worked early and returned late. This morning, though, it eased her troubled mind.

"Morning, Russ," Jack said cheerfully. There was a hint of a question in his voice at the presence of her armor, but she smiled inwardly and thanked him for not voicing it outright. As she said before, Jack was just awesome that way.

"Morning, Jack." She replied as she usually did. "Morning Prowl, Jazz."

They murmured a similar greeting in reply and joined her at the table. Jazz and Prowl eyed her armor in slight awe and apprehension: without it she was large and mech-ish; with it she was massive, foreboding, and dangerous. Time weighed heavily on her shoulders, as if she had a full Energon transport teetering there. Any way it fell it would explode and the longer it rested upon her shoulders, the longer she would feel the pain.

The table was steeped in silence, but it was a comfortable silence, one that always made Russet happy. Wheeljack jumped up suddenly, startling the silence and away it flew like a terrified marsh flitter. "Oh! I almost forgot." With a flourish he presented Russet with a data-pad snatched savagely from his subspace pocket. "You should apply for this!" he said eagerly.

Thoughtfully she took the data-pad shaken in her face and flipped through it was Wheeljack continued to speak.

"The _Star Searcher_'s a really good research vessel," he said and she jerked her head up as he spoke. "They're looking for researchers and maybe bodyguards."

Russ raised a brow ridge. "You think that I'd stoop so low as to apply for a job as a _bodyguard_?" she asked in mock insult.

The cheerful mech waved it off. "I said nothing of the sort," he insisted. "But it's a good chance for you to do something you actually _like_."

"What if I _like_ fixing machines?" she asked dryly.

"Then you can apply for a job as an engineer aboard the ship." He replied. "You can fix problems, _or_ you can be a researcher."

"Why not both?" Jazz asked dryly. "They sound similar enough."

Two pairs of different colored optics bored into him. "There is a very obvious difference between an engineer and a researcher." Jack said, sounding rather insulted.

Jazz turned wide optics on Russet, silently begging her to save him. She shook her head, lips pursed to avoid a smile as Jack continued to lecture him as he told the artisan – in detail – the difference between researchers and engineers. Unnoticed (Prowl was listening to his 'uncle' with rapt attention), Russ stood and walked out, still clutching the data-pad.

'_Did he know?'_

If he could, Ranthanoss would've shrugged. _**'How would I know?'**_ He also sounded a little irritated, having been cheated out of their morning meal in favor of saving their audios from Jack's lecture.

'_We could tell him that we already applied,'_ she suggested and Ranthanoss grumped.

'_**You do that.'**_ That said, he curled up and – to all appearances – slipped into recharge. _**'You kept me up last night,'**_ he grumbled when she chuckled.

Her chuckling cut off immediately and fell into embarrassed silence. This time it was Ranthanoss who chuckled.

* * *

**Don't...just...don't ask. **

**Inspired by _A Love Story_ by Taylor Swift.**


	16. Three Ghosts in a Lighthouse

**Chapter title inspired by _Lighthouse_ by Hush Sound, which I also do not own.**

**_Her lover was a sailor  
She went and she waited there  
The door locked from the outside  
Lover never arrived so she sings there  
Soft as a siren luring the ships off their course, how alarming_**

We went in, we climbed up and looked out  
The door locked from the outside  
Three ghosts in a lighthouse

* * *

The _Star Searcher_ was a middle-sized research vessel. It was nowhere near the massive bulk of the massive ship in construction beside it (it would be called the Ark upon completion), but it was larger than a regular shuttle, which was just large enough for one-solar-cycle trips. It had ten rooms in addition to a full lab. The down-side was that it was so tiny that there was hardly enough room in it and the quarters were cramped, barely large enough to fit a berth and a small table.

Which was just fine with Russet. Ranthanoss, of course, got claustrophobic, but so long as they were allowed to roam the ship, they'd be fine. He'd _have_ to be fine.

Time was running out. They could feel it in their armor and in the air around them. There were less than ten solar cycles left before they had to leave, and there were more than a few loose ends they had to tie.

Firstly, however, they had to pay a visit to the Complex.

* * *

Gold met her at the door and the two stared at each other for the longest time. At last they embraced and any and every angry or sad thought directed at the other was forgotten.

The same was true with Serenade and Ironhide, though they were unhappy that Russet hadn't contacted them. It was the best reunion that the younger twin had ever had.

'_I missed you,'_ Gold admitted softly. _'We were so worried…'_

Russet allowed a smile to spread across her face. _'Oh Sister, we have much to tell you.'_

The elder twin listened quietly as Russet told her about what Alpha Trion had said. She hissed aloud when Russet told her of Keel Haul's treachery. _'So he…?'_

Her sister nodded. _'He stole us from them.'_

'_And we have a brother?'_

'_Yes. His name is Orion Pax. He works as a dock supervisor at the processing plant on the western outskirts of Iacon.'_

'_What of our parents?'_

'_They are dead.'_

Gold's armor rattled angrily. _'How?'_

Russet hesitated. _'Keel Haul.'_ She said at last. _'He ordered their deaths.'_

'_Why?'_ she snarled. _'Who killed them?'_

Her sister said nothing. It was Ranthanoss who answered. _**'We did. The four of us. They were our first victims.'**_

Russet wasn't surprised, having come to grips with it much earlier. Gold's talons dug into the table with a dull crunch. _'He was in the beginnings of his master plan.'_ She explained quietly. _'But our parents couldn't just abandon us. So they threatened Keel Haul. They had contacts in the Complex, they had told him. They could have him arrested in a sparkpulse. Keel Haul had them kidnapped and then turned us loose upon them as an example to anyone who dared to interfere.'_

Gold put her head down on the table. Her back-spines were lowered until they were almost completely hidden. Russet didn't know what to say to her. _'Do you think Sentinel knows?'_ she asked at last.

Her twin shrugged. _'Perhaps, but I doubt it.'_

A watery chuckle. _'He has his head too far up his skidplate to notice or care.'_ She said bitterly. Russet had nothing to say in their caretaker's defense.

She stood and walked into the hallway. After a beat her sister followed, the air rippling almost tangibly around the golden femme in her ire. When Sentinel saw Russet, the weary set of his optics disappeared and he smiled, moving at once to embrace her. "You've returned." He breathed. The bright Prime ushered them to a seat, clearing his desk quickly and setting out Energon treats for them. The ones he knew they favored.

"For only a short time." Russet told him quietly.

His grin died but remained optimistically cheerful. Like a dying flame struggling to stay alive. "So let us try to make up for lost time," he said in a forced voice. "What's been up with you lately?"

Russet told them, omitting the parts about Prowl, Jazz, and her midnight rendezvous with Ratchet. She skirted around Alpha Trion and her knowledge of their parents; she could feel that Gold was planning something.

"Sentinel," she said innocently when her sister was done. "Have you heard of someone named Shimmer? I think she was a comm. officer."

The yellow and orange mech froze. Though they turned a blind optic to the sudden movement, they knew that he was honestly surprised. His armor rattled in a shiver and inside them Ranthanoss and Rykenta snarled and circled. They knew something was up. "Ah, she was amazing at what she did." He said at last though there was a nervous twitter in his voice. "The sweetest creature you'd ever meet. Her bondmate was an Enforcer. I believe his name was Pulse. They were the best at what they did." He shifted nervously. "Why?"

The almost-conical horns atop Gold's helm twitched and shifted into an angry position. Her optics narrowed and she shifted into what Russet recognized as her intimidation pose, the one she used when she was Sun. "No reason." Despite the light tone of her voice, her posture forced pressure upon any who she had coined as her prey.

Russet recognized her cue. "We were just curious. A friend told me about them."

It was a game they had played often, and as rehearsed many other times, she rested a soothing hand on Gold's wrist. In a fierce show of temper her sister snarled but leaned back. Sentinel Prime was regarded shrewdly with cold russet-red optics.

Russet's cue came up again; she was the soothing presence beside her sister. She'd convince their prey that they weren't up to anything and then Gold would spring the trap and they'd have themselves a hunt well done.

She smiled reassuringly. "What else can you tell us about them?"

The Prime shifted. "Well, Shimmer had an accent – she'd been raised in Heliplex across the world. Her creators were traveling merchants and by the time she reached Iacon, she was of age to settle down." He leaned back, relaxing slowly. At that one moment in time, Russet thought he resembled a turbohawk who had been startled; the feathers would slowly settle back down until the avian was calm once more. "So she did. She applied for a job here as a comm. officer, but no one thought she could do it because of her accent."

'_Heliplex.'_ Gold breathed, her awe not breaking through her tense mask.

Russet gave an imperceptible nod. The city of Heliplex was the Iacon of the planet's eastern hemisphere.

Sentinel gave a low chuckle, unaware of the conversation going on between the twins. "But she proved us wrong, all right." His optics were hazy now, reminiscing on the past.

"What about Pulse?" Russet asked delicately. She was walking on shrapnel mines now.

The Prime sighed. "Oh, he was easily the best we ever had. You two would soon eclipse him, but…" he hummed. "That mech was amazing. Strong as a Pit-Dragon but gentle as a sparkling. Never hurt anybody he didn't have to. And oh how he loved Shimmer. Doted on her until she told that she didn't need to be coddled like a sparkling or a pampered Towers brat but everyone could tell she loved him just as much." He sighed longingly.

"They sound wonderful."

"Oh, they were. The best team there ever was for all Shimmer was a comm. officer and Pulse was an Enforcer. Never saw a better pair of bondmates. I held the ceremony myself… How old are you guys?"

Russet flicked an optic. "Nearly a vorn." She said.

Sentinel nodded. "Ah yes. That's right. They were bonded about two vorns ago. You know how Flux and Forge are?" warily they nodded, thinking of the tiny but saucy engineer and her massive guardian. "That's what Shimmer and Pulse were like. Oh, he followed her around like a lost cyber-pup even after they were bonded. It was so tragic what happened." He gave a gusty sigh. "They had two children, both femmes. I'm not sure, but they may have been twins, but they didn't tell me exactly." His optics shuttered. "They were stolen from the med-ward where the medics were checking up on them. They _must_ have been twins."

"What happened to them?" Russet asked innocently.

"Well, Shimmer and Pulse were devastated. You'd think Keel Haul sucked their very sparks from their chests." Sentinel said, unaware that the twins had stiffened. He continued. "Rumor has it he reformatted them, turned them into killer…s…"

Gold's spine-blades shivered as she extended them to their fullest and her claws dug into the desk. "So you knew," she said rather conversationally though there was an underlying tone in her voice, one Russet hadn't heard since they were Sun and Moon.

Sentinel was on his feet and backing away in an instant. Russet loved him in a vague sense but even _she_ had to wonder how he ever became a Prime if he was so flighty. She must've spoken aloud for the bright mech's optics jerked to her. "Y-you'd be too if-f you had a killer 'b-bout to pounc-ce on you."

"We aren't killers, Sentinel." Gold snapped.

"Could've fooled me!" he said, voice squeaking near the end. "Snarlin' like you do, walking around like you owned the whole Complex. You're staking claim to your territory and if anyone tried to tell you otherwise you'd go Pit-Dragon on them."

Russet stepped back, having snapped to her feet when Sentinel did. This wasn't her fight. This was between Sentinel and Gold. Ranthanoss agreed even as he snarled and shifted anxiously.

They tripped gracelessly over something – in their scared mind they couldn't remember what it was exactly – and the movement caused both pairs of optics to flash to her. The weakest link. The youngest, most emotional.

The one who was hurt the most by callous words.

Immediately the fight drained from Gold's optics. But Rykenta was angry. _**'You've gone soft,'**_ he snarled and no amount of mental blocking could drown out his angry roar.

'_**Because we are not monsters!'**_ Ranthanoss roared in reply, coiled in a defensive position.

As they turned and fled, Rykenta's voice echoed after them. _**'We are monsters, Ranthanoss and Windtreader. We are monsters. You cannot escape it.'**_

* * *

Prowl was breathless when he burst into Ratchet's office. "Ratch, you need to get back," he blurted out, optics wide.

The medic was on his feet in an instant. "Is something wrong?"

The youngling nodded, shuttering his optics painfully. As a gift for him on his sparking day twelve solar cycles ago, Russet had gotten him a logic computer. She installed it for him, too, and helped him work with it until he was able to turn it on and off at will. However, certain actions, especially ones that overly excited him or caused his laser core to fluctuate faster than usual could be painful for him. A temporary side-effect as his systems began to get used to the computer.

He shoved his adopted son into a chair. "Sit and take a deep breath. That's it. Calm down and tell me what's going on."

With a few deep, shaky breaths to steady himself and a lot of hiccups the young mech stuttered out his story. Russet had come home early. No one really knew why, but when she did she was pacing angrily. A blue and green mech Prowl had never seen before had come in and spoke with her and she had become even more agitated, pacing increasing in speed until she crossed the living room like a caged Pit-Dragon.

Prowl hadn't known what was said between them, but something the green and blue mech said made her angry and she made a noise he had never heard before, what he described as a great rumble like the engine of a transport snarling and roaring. Or like the aerial transports and the airborne military mechs streaking through the air. The mech had backed off and Russet had resumed her pacing, but Wheeljack had evidently known the signs and had sent Prowl off to fetch Ratchet.

"Why wasn't she at work?" he asked, trying to figure out the root of Russet's ire.

Her son shook his head fearfully. "I don't know. But she didn't leave as late as she usually does."

Ratchet reached for the comm. device at the corner of his desk, keying the code for Chromia. _"Engineer Chromia in Block A, here, how can I help you?"_

"Chromia, it's Ratchet."

A pause. Then,_ "Hey, Ratchet. Long time no see. How can I help you?"_

"I heard that Russet wasn't at work today. Do you by chance know why?"

Chromia paused again. _"She had off today and tomorrow's her last day at work. She said that today she was going to tie off a few loose knots."_ A hesitant pause again. _"Is she all right?"_

The femme was the only one who knew Russ's true gender at the processing plant. "She's all right," he assured her. "I was just wondering."

"_Okay. If anything's wrong, you can just call me. I'll do whatever I can to help, even throw Orion into the processor."_ Ratchet laughed along with her and thanking her, hung up.

"Let's get back home. Maybe we can figure it out there." He suggested and Prowl nodded so fast that the medic was worried that his head would go flying off.

Prowl pulled him out and the medic was startled to recognize Flux Core and Forge waiting outside for them in a private transport. "Get inside, we'll explain later." Forge said, never one for words.

Without hesitation they climbed in and Forge drove off quickly. Flux turned in her seat to look at Ratchet. Prowl was utterly relaxed and Ratchet realized that they must have brought him over. "Russet came by today to say goodbye." She told him. "I'm assuming you know about her trip on the _Star Searcher_? Well she thought she'd be nice and come by for a little chat with everyone."

"At the Complex?" Ratchet asked incredulously. She had avoided it like a bout of cosmic rust the past forty stellar cycles.

Flux nodded. "I don't really know why she came by earlier, but a while after she started talking to Gold and the others in the cafeteria they got up and left. Ironhide said they went to Sentinel's office and when the door opened next it was Russet running as if the Unmaker himself was on her tail."

The transport jerked to a stop. "We're here."

Ratchet stared out the window. He'd never traveled that fast from the Academy to his clinic (or vice versa) and he told them so. They merely laughed and said it was worth it.

Thanking them, Ratchet ran with much trepidation up to the door. It slid open with a quiet _hiss_ at his touch and he was startled to find everyone piled into the kitchen. Ironhide stood in a corner looking as sulky as Ratchet had ever seen him, warily staring around the room. Jazz was in another corner and seeing him, Prowl rushed over. Broken pexi-glass littered his shoulders and in the crevices in his helm and chassis. Serenade was sitting heavily in a chair at the table, a massive dent in the armor of his chest and shoulder. He looked so dizzy that Ratchet concluded that he must've knocked something loose in his cranium. More pexi-glass littered the floor around them, concentrated around Serenade.

"What happened?" he demanded sharply.

Ironhide looked sheepish. "She's a'throwin' a tantrum."

"Dshthhhsthrethed." Serenade said heavily. Russet had apparently caught him in a blow across the face for his lip components were marred and twisted, distorting his vocalizations.

Wheeljack looked up from his place at Serenade's side. He was tending the medic's injuries as best as he was able to. "She just came home and started pacing. A few breems ago Serenade tried to corner her and she decked him."

The blue and green medic looked as cross as he was able to with his injuries. "Dthe'en't mein thoo."

The engineer gave him a patient glance. "Threw him clean across the room. She must be really mad."

Ratchet sighed. "I'll go talk to her. Is she still in the living room?"

Jazz shook his head. "I heard her go toward the living areas a moment ago. When you walked in. She should be there."

"Thanks." He continuously forgot that Jazz had been blind previously and his audio receptors were still keenly aware of his surroundings. With a deep breath he stepped out of the kitchen and into the living area.

It was a mess, plain and simple.

There were pexi-glass shards everywhere, twinkling in the lights cast overhead. He looked up and noted that even the overhead lights hadn't been spared for there were fine cracks along the finish but overall nothing too obvious. Delicately he picked his way through the mess.

He stopped, seeing a shattered line of shelves, the data-pads stored there thrown about. One or two had cracked screens but all of them – even their data – were salvageable. This didn't look like Russet _or_ Ranthanoss when they were angry. It didn't even look like an angry cyberwolf, he realized.

As he walked he thought, careful to keep his thoughts to himself. Russet already knew he was home and she had holed herself up in her room and he didn't see any reason to spook her further.

_Jack said that Serenade tried to corner her._ He paused, looking thoughtfully at the misshapen, warped metal of what was once the table-footstool. He was no forensic analyst, but he had an idea of what happened though not in what order.

There were grooves along a single, straight track across the room, as Prowl had said. Russet paced, and if something was bothering her, the claws in her feet came down, just as it would for a regular Pit-Dragon. But these grooves were thin and hardly visible; if she was angry, they would've been deep.

She had smashed her hand into the table-footrest-thing. He knew that because he could see the imprint of her hands and claws in the metal that buckled beneath her strength. She had then dragged her claws away, slicing the cheap metal as if it were an energon knife through hot slag.

Ratchet winced as a bit of pexi-glass crunched beneath his foot. Something wasn't right. There were only certain items broken. He turned in a full circle, taking in the damage. The table, the light, the grooves in the ground, a few frames, the bookshelf… they were all deliberate damages.

He stalked back to the kitchen. "Talk. Now." He snapped.

Ironhide looked startled. "What?"

The medic gestured sharply toward the living room. "She's _scared_. Now." He proceeded to invade Ironhide's personal space, a tactic that Russet used often when angry. And Primus he was _angry_. "Tell me _exactly_ what happened."

"She was talking with Sentinel," Flux said quietly. "We don't know what about, though. For that you'd have to go to Gold."

A shiver of trepidation slid down his spinal column and he shook his head. "No. Gold will scare her even more." He sighed. "I'll just go talk to her."

The hallway was surprisingly damage-free save for the little grooves Russet's claws cut into the metal. He keyed in the access code to her room and had to pause as he took in the damage there. The berth was practically snapped in two, twisted remains around the different areas of the room. A lot of the experimental work she'd been doing when she wasn't sleeping were thrown about, some thrown so hard that they were embedded in the walls themselves. The femme herself was nowhere to be seen, but that was hardly a problem for Ratchet.

He closed the door behind him and sighed. "What's wrong?"

The room was silent and still. Some of the bits of shredded metal shifted on their own in the far corner. He knew that it was the most response he'd get out of her.

"What did you talk to Sentinel about?" he asked, crouching down awkwardly.

"Everything," came the disembodied voice. Ranthanoss's voice was unusually flat. "Left out Prowl and Jazz. Not want to cause trouble."

He nearly sighed in relief. Ranthanoss speaking was better than none of them. And at least they were talking. "Cause trouble?"

"Rykenta."

Ratchet paused. He'd heard the name before but couldn't place it. Something told him that he shouldn't press his scared friend. "What would…uh…Rykenta do?"

There was silence for a long moment. "We don't know." Was the quiet answer. "May kill them. Not sure."

The medic's respiratory system hitched but forced himself to calm down. He needed to remain calm for them. "Why are you hiding in your room?"

The shavings danced and twisted again. Ratchet guessed that Ranthanoss swung their tail. "To stop us. Need to be caged."

Ratchet shivered and took a careful step-crawl forward. "Why? Pit-Dragons shouldn't be caged. _You_ shouldn't be caged."

He could hear her shivering, a constant, desolate rattling noise that tore at his spark. Without seeing her he knew that their armor was rattling and shaking, each plate moving to the fullest extent before falling and repeating the process in a continuous wave of motion. "Should." Ranthanoss said stubbornly. He could hear a hint of Russet in the Pit-Dragon's voice. "Am – are – monsters. Evil creatures."

The medic lunged forward suddenly, grabbing the first part of Russet/Ranthanoss that he touched. It was her wrist by the feel of it. He was confident that she wouldn't hurt him.

He hoped.

The rattling continued and he traced his way up the massive arms to the broad shoulders, and finally to the soft, delicate face of his friend. And lover. "Russ," he whispered. He was giddy with the thought that she had frozen so completely but dazed with the notion that it appeared as if he gripped nothing but air.

Like liquid poured into a mold the familiar form of Russet appeared slowly beneath his palms, gold optics distressed. She made a choked sound in the back of her throat and his spark pulled at the soft, spark-broken sound.

He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. "Talk to me, Russ," he told her gently. He opened the mind link between them and held it open – completely – to her.

At long last he felt the tentative brushing of her and Ranthanoss's mind, a maelstrom of negative emotion that hit him hard like a speeding transport. A gentle nudge from him and he skipped and sped around her cortex, pulled into a small "corner."

'_**We are monsters, Ranthanoss and Windtreader,'**_ the rough voice echoed around him with such cold finality that if he had been in his body, he would be shaking. As it was, he thought he _was_. _**'We are monsters. You cannot escape it.'**_

The cold flavor of distress washed over him like a high-powered spray of water. Data flooded his cortex in the only way Russet knew to convey her sufferings when they built up into a heavy pressure inside her. As the flow of data like an untamed river began to recede into a mere trickle of sad thoughts and wishful thinking the overall emotion of his friend began to shift.

Ratchet shuttered his optics and kissed her gently, feeling the brush of their armor and helms. At that point, they didn't need words.


	17. Begging You Please, Don't Go

The next morning Russet had shuffled guiltily into the kitchen like a cyberwolf sent out for being bad. She had grabbed her morning Energon and retreated to a corner, sitting awkwardly on the counter. The morning routine had gone on around her as if unaffected by her "tantrum," and Ratchet was just walking in when the crash of her cube echoed around the kitchen. Immediately everyone turned to Russet, almost expecting another attack but she simply stared off into space, frozen in place as if a statue.

"Russ?" Ratchet asked cautiously. The residual data from her spun around his cortex, and through that data, he could 'hear' the words exchanged between her and Gold.

'…_an attack.'_ The bright twin was saying. _'We need our help right away.'_

Russet's spinal armor clattered angrily. _'Who?'_

'_The rebel military mechs. They call themselves Decepticons now and have apparently found themselves a leader. They're rallying around him.'_

With a dangerous, feline grace, Russet slid off the counter. _'Acknowledged. On my way.'_

Ratchet grabbed her wrist, making her pause. "What's going on?"

The conical spires atop her head lowered slightly. "There's been an attack."

The kitchen became very quiet. "Where?" Wheeljack asked, getting slowly to his feet.

"The processing plant." The optics of everyone in the kitchen widened. "I've been called out. Flux and Forge are driving up here. They need all the medics and fighters they can get."

"A revolt? A riot?" Jazz asked as Russet checked the fit of her armor.

The femme shook her head. "An attack. The rogue military mechs – they call themselves Decepticons now – attacked the plant. No doubt for the energy there."

Jazz looked dubious. "Attacked by a sparkling's spirit stories?"

But Russet was already out the door. "She's fast. She'll probably get there well before us," Ratchet said thoughtfully. "Jack, get all the medical equipment you got. We're going to need it."

The engineer leapt up and raced out. "I'll pack some extra rations for you guys," Prowl said, getting to his feet. "My classes today have been cancelled."

The youngling's voice broke the spell that held them all together and they raced about to do their tasks.

* * *

She knew Iacon well, the lower-classed areas better. It was easy to find abandoned paths where she could run full-tilt without wasting energy by dodging people and transports, and by the time they reached the outskirts of town where it was safe for her to transform, she could hear the sounds of battle.

Ranthanoss was itching for a fight and she let him loose, diving into a neat transformation sequence once outside the gates. It felt good to run. The feel of the ground beneath their clawed feet, the wonderful stretch of the powerful muscle cables in their body contracting and relaxing in perfect synch with their movements was wonderful. Freeing. Amazing.

They briefly wondered if they'd be able to stretch their legs like this with the _Star Searcher_ but put that thought away as they began to see the battle. They had to concentrate on fighting now. As they passed the medics tent, they caught a glimpse of Serenade (who had been repaired later by Ratchet) but disregarded it. Fight.

With a powerful roar they arced over the gathered Enforcers, landing clawed feet-first on the chest and shoulders of a mech bearing a purple symbol. He fell with a crunch and Ironhide, the mech she had happened to jump over, sent her a brief sitrep databurst over the Enforcer codes.

They needed someone to get the survivors out of the building? They could do that. With a grunt they exploded forward, lowering their horned head. Mechs fell away from them, some gouged or scratched by the sharp-tipped horns, others sliced by her scythe-bladed tail as she passed. Muscle cables tensed and she leaped! Over a Decepticon, crushing his skull with her hind claws as she landed. Down came her bladed tail, cleaving his head in half before it was dragged away with her.

It didn't take long for her to punch through the door to the plant, but she was distracted slightly by the sheer number of mechs gathered and the high pyramids of processed Energon.

'_They attacked at a prime time,'_ she snarled. It was true: in the mornings the processed Energon from the plant was loaded on to the barges outside to be distributed. The best times of attack would be in the mornings during (or just after) loading, and in the evenings at the same time.

Ranthanoss grunted and they swung their head, making their way to the bunker. It helped that they worked there and knew the plant like the backs of their claws. The rescue-Enforcers recognized her and followed her lead after a quick databurst.

_-There are four blocks: A-D. In each block there's an emergency bunker. The workers will retreat there if there's ever a full-scale lockdown.-_ she told them over the 'burst. _–They're all located near the center of the block so all workers can get there.-_ she led the rescue-Enforcers to the first bunker, working as a battering ram to open the door which had gotten jammed.

As the frightened workers raced out into the protected transport, Russet counted. Block B was missing ten workers out of fifty. It was better than she expected, not that the loss of one out of five workers was good news. With the rest of the rescue-Enforcers she traveled down the line, occasionally fighting a mech or two in the way or defending someone or another. Block C was one of the worst hit, and she had the sinking suspicion that it had been a two- or three-pronged attack with Block B a secondary attack after other blocks had been incapacitated.

Which would make sense, considering Block B produced mostly high-grade and the others produced the usual middle- and low-grades.

Block C lost forty out of sixty workers, a pretty bad loss. It was probably one of the first hit, judging by the amount of bodies scattered around the place. Some workers were even around the areas they had been working; only the ones closest to the bunker had been able to get in. Here more than half of the Energon had been looted before the Decepticons carrying it out had been distracted by fighting.

Military mechs could hardly resist a good fight, even for precious Energon.

At last they came to Block D. They'd gotten databursts saying that a battering ram – Russet – was needed to open Block A. It was, apparently, majorly jammed. By far Block D was the worst hit. There were only ten or so survivors out of nearly eighty and nearly all of the Energon had been looted.

Job accomplished, Russet raced back through the Blocks toward the area she worked in, praying all the way to any deity that would listen. The fighting had ebbed off toward the outside, and a good deal of the Energon stored there had been taken. She immediately found the emergency bunker and kicked it open, hearing the sound of the emergency transports racing over.

She stood aside and watched, counting. Five. There were _five_ survivors (uninjured ones) out of a Block that had nearly a hundred. Five uninjured and two badly injured. Chromia was the last to come out, carefully watching the movement of the two injured workers. One was a mech, and one was a femme.

Russet snarled upon seeing them. She recognized them: Ariel and Orion. Her brother and his bondmate-to-be. Hearing her snarl, Chromia walked over. "They're badly hurt," she said very quietly, spilled fluids giving her a brighter appearance. "I hope you got medics out there or they'll die."

A medic came up and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let's get you in the transport, ma'am, so we can get out of here and get them treated."

Chromia didn't look away from Russet. "I'm not going. I'm going to fight."

Golden optics blinked and she knelt, lowering her spine-blades and allowing Chromia to settle herself across her shoulders. Sending a brief databurst to Ratchet and Wheeljack in the medics' tent, she informed them of the casualties coming in before spinning and racing out of the warehouse, Chromia perched on her shoulders.

The engineer was a good fighter, it turned out, once Russet got her a gun to use. She was stationed beside Ironhide and picked off her targets with infinite grace and deadly accuracy that left many mechs watching her stunned. Russet herself was busy in the outskirts of the plant, trying to find a way to stop the fighting.

These new Decepticons were able to fly without an alternate form and rained fire down upon the Enforcers and medics alike. It was very dangerous to be in that area, and since neither she nor many of the Enforcers were able to fly, it made matters worse.

She encountered five mechs with (obviously) airborne transformations though they were no transformations or vehicles she had ever seen before, sleek, long, and colorful as they were. They slowed to a stop as they approached each other and her optics were drawn to the Face of Primus emblazoned boldly on their bodies.

"Peril," the one in front said, stepping forward and she shook her head. Did she know him? She was most certainly _not_ called Peril. She was Russet, she was Windtreader. Not Peril.

Though it was a pretty nice name.

The mechs exchanged glances. _–I am not Peril. I am Russet, Iacon Enforcer. Who are _you_?-_

They gulped but though the first mech was (obviously) scared, he didn't back away and tried not to show it. "I am Autobot Silverbolt. I'm the leader of my gestalt, Superion."

Russet's tail lashed impatiently and her optics narrowed. _–I know of no gestalts nor do I know of any developments of one, just as I have never heard of an 'Autobot.' Why do you call me Peril?-_

Silverbolt hesitated. "I cannot say."

_-Why are you here?-_

"To stop the Decepticons from attacking the plant."

_-They have already attacked it.-_ Russet told them, optics narrowing further.

One of the mechs behind him stepped forward hesitantly. "We're trying to _stop_ the attack."

She turned her head to look closely at him before regarding them together. _–That is what I am trying to accomplish now. Have you any ideas?-_

Silverbolt shook his head sheepishly. "Is it possible to just blow it up?"

There was silence from Russet for a long moment. _–'Just blow it up?'-_ she echoed. _'There is likely enough Energon left in the plants to do that, but the most it will do is burn out the building: the Decepticons have taken too much. The heat and explosion from the Energon would also overheat the machines if they're on. If I turn on all the machines and you blow the Energon, it will stop anyone inside and the Decepticons will likely stop their attack.-_

"You can do that?" one of the mechs asked and she gave him a glare and a snarl.

_-I worked here, young nock-helmed idiot.-_ she snapped. _–I was an engineer and fixed all the machines. I know them like the back of my claws. Give me two breems and then blow the Energon.-_

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and raced off. Running full-tilt over bodies was not a pleasant experience, nor was having to transform in four Blocks one at a time to turn on the massive processing machines. When the last hummed to life, she fled the building, turning around on the outskirts to follow the edges of the docks, opening her stride to make it back to the main fight.

There was a noise, like a massive roar from a thousand Pit-Dragons that screamed in her audio receptors. The force of the sheer wall of noise forced her to stop before she was safe from the blast whose shockwave picked her up like a limp doll and threw her into the river complex, smashing into the side of a barge before sinking beneath the blissfully silent water.

Instincts spurred her and they churned their legs as if running in the water itself, tail dragging slowly behind them. Blossoms of fire and smoke brightened the water suddenly, and she looked up, seeing the flames from the plant reach over the water as if it knew she was there and was trying to reach her. Burnt and blackened bodies were heaved into the water by the blast, some still slowly dying. By the time they sank to her level the water had seeped into their sparks and they were dead.

She swam along the graveyard of a river until at last it was apparent that the resonating sound of the explosion had died. Pushing off the ground, she rose to the surface and transforming, hauled herself out of the water. By some twist of luck it happened to be near Ratchet in the medics' tent and he helped (or tried to) haul her out of the water.

"You're injured," he groused unhappily and she blinked.

"We are?"

"Mmm." Ratchet said nonchalantly. He gripped a pipe and with a quick flick, pulled it out from where it was embedded in her side as she roared in pain. "See?"

Russet peered at it curiously. "We didn't notice that." She admitted. "Must've been when the warehouse exploded."

"Yeah, 'bout that," they looked up to find a soot-covered Ironhide and Chromia standing nearby. "Coulda warned us?"

The femme shuttered her optics quickly in what could loosely be called a blink. "Whoops."

Suddenly Chromia began to chuckle, and then finally laugh, prompting the others involved in the fighting nearby to laugh as well, still running high on the surge of energy from the fight.

* * *

Russet's wound was patched quickly but as she was needed to swim for bodies in the river, it had to stay at that, covered with a temporary patch. Alpha Trion, who had heard of the attack, had opened his lab up to the severely injured including Ariel and Orion. As her injury was a minor one (Ratchet had a differing point of view on that) it was patched and would remain so until the more severe injuries had been treated. So she had gone diving as ordered.

Unfortunately, Ratchet had been right and she passed out soon after she had hauled the last body out of the river from energy loss. According to Wheeljack, Ratchet had insisted that Russet be transported back to their house so he could treat her _there_. After arguing for more than a few breems the commanding officer of the Enforcers gave up and got them a transport large enough to carry Russet.

The most entertaining part of it, he had said later, was the fact that they were stuck dragging Russet's massive, _heavy_ body into the house after being dropped off by the transport. According to him, it took a cycle or two to get her to the kitchen alone, and even then they had to move a lot of furniture and two surprised mechs aside.

"We're allowed to bring strays home, now?" Prowl had asked dryly after recovering from his surprise. Ratchet had given him a glance that was clearly not amused.

"She's hardly a stray," Wheeljack told them, vocal indicators flashing with amusement.

"Should be. Hardly listens to me anymore." The medic muttered.

'_**Listens more than you think,'**_ Ranthanoss muttered.

Ratchet ignored the Pit-Dragon. "Get me a cube of low-grade and a cube of my morning fix? I think I'll be needing it."

Jazz did as obeyed, stepping carefully over a bladed tail to reach the dispenser. "Any news?"

The medic rubbed his face wearily. "The plant exploded. More casualties than there were survivors, especially after that blast. Prices will be rising."

'_**Indefinitely.'**_

He gulped the energon provided by Jazz and rapped Russet's shoulder with a knuckle. _'I don't need our comments.'_

'_**You'll be getting them anyway.'**_ Came the dry reply.

"Gonna need an energon transfusion." Wheeljack commented, eyeing the wound in question. "She's lost too much."

Ratchet grunted and set his energon aside. _'Can you move, Ranthanoss?'_

'_**A little.'**_Was the reply.

'_Open your mouth.'_

The Pit-Dragon gave what sounded a lot like a sigh and opened his mouth, revealing needle-fine razor-sharp teeth. Carefully Ratchet poured the low-grade energon into the fearsome maw, lifting the head gently to help it slide down the neck tubing of the creature. "Give her another cube," Ratchet ordered Prowl, standing to help Wheeljack at Russet's side.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Jazz asked, watching as the head the size of forearm arched slightly before falling flat once more. "It looks like it's waking up."

Ranthanoss's bladed tail swung lightly as he shifted but after Ratchet slapped his flank he fell still, but not before he turned to give him a pale-optic'ed glare. "She should behave," Ratchet said simply, turning back to his work.

"_Should_," Jazz replied snappishly. "Are you _sure_?"

Ratchet slapped the Pit-Dragon's flank and the head lifted to glare at him. "Behave." He said firmly. Ranthanoss gave a low snort before setting his head down. He looked at Jazz. "There. She'll behave now."

Prowl shook his head and ignoring Jazz's hissed warnings, knelt beside the massive head. "Can I pet her?"

"If you give her the damn energon." Ratchet groused. "She's lost a lot of fluid."

The youngling obeyed, bringing the cube closer. "Uh, can you open up, please?"

The query proved to be unneeded for when the Pit-Dragon caught sight of the cube, he lifted his head and allowed Prowl to pour it into his jaws. The long glossa snaked out and licked fluid-splattered lips before slipping back into the fang-lined mouth. Hesitantly Prowl reached a hand forward and in a strange fit of gentleness, Ranthanoss nudged his head into the white hand, sliding this optics shut.

"I don't believe it," Wheeljack said, looking up from his work. "She's purring."

Ratchet just shook his head and continued his work. "Almost done."

Prowl ducked his head shyly and stroked the powerful neck and jaws gently. When Jazz handed him another low-grade cube, he poured it delicately into the fanged mouth once more, even laughing as the long glossa slipped out and gathered the remaining bits of energon in the cube.

"There," Jack said at last, patting the massive flank. "Done."

The medic sighed and sat back. "Now if you manage to hurt yourself like that again, I'm gonna kick your aft from here to the furthest reaches of space."

He only received a sassy wink and a "gentle" nudge from a bladed tail. The nudge sent him flopping over and he scowled at the Pit-Dragon as it yawned and rose from its relaxed position. Russet transformed, stretching as far as she was able to before she inspected the wound. "Nice job," she said, sounding amused. "Get some rest, you two. You guys had it worse than I did."

Wheeljack slapped Ratchet on the shoulder. "I won't say no to a little recharge," he said wearily.

"You too, Ratch." Russet said, ignoring the incredulous stares of Jazz and Prowl. "Don't make me drag you." She warned. "You know that I am very much capable of picking you up and carrying you."

When no reply was forthcoming, she picked him up, threw him over a shoulder, and stalked out. "I wonder about them sometimes." Wheeljack commented airily, watching them leave.

"I didn't know she could transform," Prowl breathed, optics wide. He turned to Wheeljack. "You're not surprised? That she was a _Pit-Dragon_?"

The engineer laughed, patting them on their shoulders wearily. "There's a lot of things we still don't know about Russ." He said. "Maybe when she comes back she'll tell you some of her secrets."

The two younglings looked dubious but Wheeljack turned and walked further into the house without saying anything more.

* * *

It was strange and had taken some getting used to, but at last Russet wasn't about to be panicking when she found that Ratchet had shifted somehow without her notice so that he was draped across her body, head pillowed on her belly. Of course this meant that she was stuck like that until it was time for him to wake up so she had made a habit of keeping a reader in her subspace pocket.

But today she couldn't tear her optics away from her red and white medic. It was the last full day she had with him before she left, after all. As if sensing her thoughts the medic woke, optics flickering on before focusing on her tiredly. "You're up early." He muttered into her abdominal plating and she chuckled, rubbing his chevron gently.

"Need less recharge time, remember?" Ratchet murmured something unintelligible and appeared to go back into his recharge cycle. For now she was simply content to watch him, occasionally stroking his helm or face.

* * *

The final day. The last time she'd see her insane family for ten stellar cycles. At the docks, they gathered to see her off and if she had been able to, she would have cried. Jazz, Prowl, Serenade, Flux Core, Forge, Ironhide, Chromia (who had latched on to Ironhide), and Wheeljack looked sad to watch her leave, but held their peace and their heads high, bidding her farewell in a dignified manner. Chromia and Flux ended up giving her tight hugs with all the emotionality of a pair of full-grown femmes.

When it came time to bid farewell to Ratchet, he clutched her tightly as well. _'I'll miss you, Ratch.'_ She said quietly. It didn't need to be said, but she did anyway.

'_When you get back…would you consider…'_ he hesitated.

'_Consider what?'_

Ratchet looked up slightly into her optics. _'Allowing me to court you properly.'_

Russet smiled. "Of course." She said. A shrill whistle sounded through the air and she looked back at the _Star Searcher_. "That's my cue. Final boarding. I have to go." Her medic stepped back and she walked up the walkway to the ship, turning near the top to wave once more before stepping into the ship. She disappeared from view.

* * *

"_The rogue military mechs calling themselves 'Decepticons' after the rogue, violence-loving mechs in old spirit-scares for sparklings have stuck once again…"_

* * *

"The Decepticons have rallied around a leader whose name is currently unknown…"

* * *

"The Decepticon leader known as Megatron is rapidly gaining control, according to our resources. More later tonight…"

* * *

"It is reported that the leader in the Northern Hemisphere has been killed…"

* * *

"Decepticons have taken over a shipping port in the Southern Hemisphere of the planet. They now have ships and are targeting any vessels that are not registered as Decepticon vessels…"

* * *

"Attacks by Decepticons have escalated. The leaders in the Eastern and Southern Hemispheres of the planet have been reported killed by trained assassins. There is no further news on this…"

* * *

"It is rumored that Sentinel is the last of the surviving Primes and that he is targeted by Megatron…"

* * *

"The research and recovery vessel Star Searcher has been reported missing. It is unclear as to whether it had crashed or if it had been deliberately attacked by the Decepticons, but there is not much information known…"

* * *

"Sentinel Prime is dead!"

* * *

"The Matrix of Leadership is passed on…"

* * *

"The Third Great War has 'officially' begun on Cybertron…"

_

* * *

"__Three vorns have passed since the first hemispheric leader has been killed…"__

* * *

"__The Autobots, bearing the Face of Primus, begin their fight against the Decepticons, headed by Optimus Prime, whose mantle of leadership had been passed on to him from Sentinel Prime…"__

* * *

"__Though Sentinel Prime and the other hemispheric leaders have been assassinated by the Decepticons, there is still hope…"_


	18. Open Arms

**Chapter title inspired by _Open Arms_ by Journey. Which, of course, I don't own.**

**_We sailed on together  
We drifted apart  
And here you are by my side_**

**_So now I come to you with open arms  
Nothing to hide, believe what I say  
So here I am with open arms  
Hoping you'll see what your love means to me, open arms_**

**_Living without you, living alone  
This empty house is so cold  
Wanting to hold you, wanting you near  
How much I wanted you home._**

* * *

"_Unknown vehicle, please identify yourself."_

"This is Cruiser Flitter, please identify yourself."

"_This is Autobot Communications Officer Blaster. Please state your faction."_

There was that word again. Autobot. What, pray tell, was an Autobot?

"Flitter?"

The computer chimed, sounding irritated. "**Don't ask **_**me**_**, Captain."**

"No affiliation, Autobot Communications Officer Blaster. Is that a problem?"

There was silence for a long while. _"You're a _neutral_ ship?"_

"Affirmative. I repeat: is that a problem?"

"_Negative. We've just never seen a neutral vessel for _vorns_."_

The captain grunted in irritation. "Flitter, adjust course slightly, if you please. Go into orbit."

"**Acknowledged, Captain."**

"_I don't have a ship registered as 'Flitter' in my data."_ The officer said on the other end of the line.

"She's new." Was the blunt reply. "Are we cleared to land, or are we just going to orbit here?"

The officer seemed flustered as he answered the question. _"Of course. Sorry. I'm just confused. Maybe you can talk to Prime later…?"_

The captain grunted again, grumbling. "Sure." The comm. was switched off. "Flitter, decrease altitude, if you please."

"**Yes Captain."** Gently they descended through the thin atmosphere of Cybertron, the captain watching the scenery through the viewport. **"Light of the Stars,"** the computer breathed. **"Captain, what happened here?"**

The captain said nothing for a long moment. Then, "I don't know, Flitter." Was the quiet response. "It was _nothing_ like this when I left."

Together they stared down at the pitted and battle-tarnished surface of the planet. The metal had lost its lively golden luster, becoming dull and grey as if it were dying. Some buildings were gaping husks, others still standing though with massive holes staring up at them like bottomless optics. Nightfall had never looked so dark and bleak as it did then.

"**I do not like this, Captain**." Flitter said quietly. **"From the data you've uploaded into me, this area should be Kalis. But I see absolutely no activity here. It's like it's…dead."**

The captain gave a rumble in agreement. "Adjust course toward Iacon." Flitter chimed, signaling she heard the order, and obeyed. Iacon, though in much better shape, was just as dead. From their altitude they could see all the way across the large city, and near the spires where the Towers and the Iacon Complex were, there were little flutters of movement. The computer and captain were quiet for a long moment before the latter spoke. "Land at that building just ahead."

"**Yes Captain,"** Flitter said quietly, the sound of her engines humming as they slowed their forward speed and lowered themselves gently to the ground.

Once the small cruiser had landed, the captain disembarked, looking around. This place was familiar. "Stay here and let me know if you see anyone or anything."

"**Roger that."** The ship said solemnly, lifting the gangway and settling on the four leg-like landing gears beneath her belly.

That done, the captain walked into the middle-sized house. Everything was familiar, every turn and every room. Further into the house, the captain found that most of them had either been looted or their occupants had packed in a hurry.

_**:Captain, there are mechs here.:**_ Flitter called over the comm. frequency between them.

_:Do they know I'm here?:_

_**:Well, they found me landed in the middle of a street. I'm sure they've figured that **_**someone**_** is here.:**_

The captain's optics rolled at that. _:Any idea what they want?:_

_**:Well I don't know, why don't you come out here and ask them yourself?:**_

_:Cheeky ship.: _The captain muttered though without rancor. _:I'm on my way.:_

* * *

Hound and Bumblebee stared up at the ship as Wheeljack inspected it excitedly. The glyphs on the side read _Cruiser Flitter_, obviously the small ship's name. "Blaster said it was a neutral one." Hound commented offhandedly.

"Hello?" Bumblebee asked, rapping on the closed gangway. "Anyone there?"

There was silence. The ship didn't move and there was no answer.

"Could it be remotely-controlled?" the yellow scout asked, looking at Wheeljack who shrugged.

"Anything's possible," he said thoughtfully. "But I highly doubt it. It would take a lot of complicated work to accomplish and even then it would be near impossible to land like this ship did. Look how neat it is."

"Can I help you?" came a steely voice behind them and they whirled around to find themselves face-to-face (or rather, chestplate) with one of the largest mechs they've seen.

Immediately Hound and Bumblebee's guns were up and trained on the newcomer. "State your faction."

"**OH, PLEASE NOT THIS SLAG AGAIN**." A new voice said and the startled Autobots whirled around, looking for the source of the sound. "**FOR THE LAST FRAKKING TIME, WE'RE NEUTRAL. GOT THAT, SHORT STUFF?"**

They looked up to see an oval viewport unshuttered and lit from behind like a massive optic. The entire ship was tilted slightly as if looking down at them sidelong with one optic.

"Hush, Flitter." The mech said.

The ship made a peculiar sound but settled back on all four landing gears. **"YES, CAPTAIN."** It grumbled.

The mech turned his attention back to the three in front of him. And blinked. "Hello, Wheeljack."

The engineer peered closer at the mech and jumped up gleefully. "Russet!" he leapt at her, giving her a tight hug. Jack pulled away, looking reproachfully up at his friend. "Primus, we thought you were dead!"

"Apparently I'm not," she said dryly. "Can you please tell me what's going on here?"

"You mean you don't know?" Hound asked, frowning as he lowered his rifle.

The captain shook her head. "I've been…away." She eyed the shuttle but said nothing more on the subject. "Flitter, open up."

The ship sighed. **"AYE, CAPTAIN."** The gangway extended and lowered, allowing them to walk up and into the small shuttle.

"Flitter told me that you came from the Complex area?" Russet said as the door closed behind them. She led the way toward the bridge.

"Yeah." Wheeljack told her. "Blaster told us there'd been a neutral ship seeking landing clearance. When it didn't land near the base, Blaster tracked it this way and we found you." He was happy now, vocal indicators flashing merrily. "So you're a captain, now?"

"**By process of elimination,"** the ship muttered and Russet raised a brow at the console. **"**_**What?**_** It's true."** Her voice, now that they were on the ship, was a lot softer.

"Flitter, warm up the engines." The captain told the computer flatly. The computer chimed but said nothing. "It seems that I've missed a lot."

Seats rose from the floor and the scouts and engineer sat down gratefully, leaving Russet standing. "It happens when you've been off-planet for three and a half vorns." Wheeljack said quietly. He filled her in quickly as Flitter rose once her engines were suitably warmed up, occasionally being interrupted by the ship, Hound, or Bumblebee when they had something to add (though the ship was more concerned about takeoff procedure than the Third Great War).

Russet was quiet when they were finished, leaning against the console. She had a thoughtful look on her face and her armor was shifting as she did so. "Flitter, take us up." There was an odd tone in her voice and the computer must've picked it up for there were no sarcastic comments directed at her captain.

"**Yes, Captain."** A pause. **"Am I to head to this Base of yours, or just head in any random direction?"**

Bumblebee looked surprised, having been caught leaning over the controls. "Uh, the Base, please."

The computer snorted. **"I'm guessing it's over there in the Complex."** She grumbled. **"If not…whoops."**

That got a low chuckle out of Russet and a startled one out of Hound. "So what's happened with you?" Jack asked. "I thought you were supposed to be gone for ten stellar cycles."

Russet's face became grave. "We crashed." She said bluntly. "The _Star Searcher_ was on their way through the planets, near the planet Chaar when we hit an asteroid field. I don't know what the navigator was thinking, but she directed us through it. We ended up heavily damaged and spinning toward the nearest planet, unable to alter our course. We crashed and I was the only survivor."

Wheeljack gave her a sympathetic look. "Your armor?"

The femme rapped on her abdominal armor with an awkward knuckle. "Got that right. Only thing that saved me but condemned everyone else." They peered at it and were alarmed to see thick webs of welding scars twisting around her abdominal and chest plating. "As it was, I was nearly dead when I was found."

There was silence for a while, broken only by Flitter a breem later. **"We're here."** She said, engines changing their tempo to circle above the complex. **"Their guns are rising."** She didn't sound happy.

"Shields up and activate the comm. unit. Get in contact with Communications Officer Blaster. Inform them that we are a neutral vessel." Russet paused. "And for Sky-Light's sake, be _nice_ about it."

Flitter gave a low sound like a snort. **"Yeah, yeah, whatever."**

"Is she an AI?" Wheeljack asked interestedly.

Russet shook her head. "I almost wish she was."

"**I heard that, Captain."**

The femme snorted. "When I landed she was one of the first to find me. Her family adopted me but her biggest dream was for her to see the stars."

"**Yeah, but not literally."**

"I don't hear you complaining," Russet retorted, sounding amused. "She was attacked by pirates and so I gave her an overhaul. Ended up using the wreckage of the _Star Searcher_."

"So…she's alive?" Hound asked, sounding confused.

"**Basically, yes."** Flitter sniffed. **"I **_**am**_** alive. In a different body than what I was born in, but I'm alive. Captain, we've received permission to land."**

"That's good, then." Russet said, attention diverting from the gathered mechs to the ship. "Preparing for docking?"

"**Of course."**

"Are the docking berths an adequate size?" Wheeljack asked, eyeing the transport berths. "Flitter's pretty small."

His comment fell on deaf audios. After a long pause Russet looked up. "Berths? Oh, no, they're fine. Flitter can just land in the middle and lower the lift for us." She cast a quick grin over her shoulder at him. "Thanks, though."

Wheeljack was momentarily startled. He was used to the shy, closed-lipped smiles coming from Russet who was wary of scaring others with her fanged dental plates; it was Gold who gave the reckless, fanged grins. In the back of his cortex he wondered what had happened to his friend for her to be giving those free grins now. The smile she gave him had been one that was truly happy and spoke of a soul that knew exactly who they were and were confident in their identity.

He wondered what had changed in her.

With a low _thump_ and a small bump they landed. As Russet and Flitter went though a brief post-docking procedure, the three Autobots stood. **"Tell your friends outside we'll be down shortly."** Flitter said and distantly they could hear the _hiss_ of the lift doors opening.

"I'll be down shortly." Russet said distractedly and after a moment they obeyed.

* * *

Ratchet jumped visibly when Wheeljack burst into his Med-Bay. "Ratch! You gotta see this!"

The medic gave a low sigh. "What is it this time, Jack?" he asked tiredly. Then he eyed his friend suspiciously. "Are you sure it's not gonna blow up?"

Wheeljack shook his head eagerly. "It's not an experiment, now come _on_." With that he proceeded to drag his friend out the door, leaving the rest of the medics staring after them in amusement.

"If it's not an experiment, what is it?" Ratchet demanded, looking distinctly unhappy when he was dragged out of the base toward the ship berths in the back.

"You'll see," his friend sang, practically bouncing in excitement. "Look!" he gestured at the ship berths.

For a moment, Ratchet was speechless. For the first time in a long time, there was a ship nestled in one of the berths. Granted it was a small ship, by far too small to be in a space transport's berth, but it was landed so delicately that it balanced perfectly, the landing gears hooked over the edges like the legs of a sleepy cyberwolf. If he was any judge (and he really wasn't), he'd think it was a small-sized cruiser at best.

The ship was built almost delicately, with thin protrusions from the dorsal and sides like the wings of a massive fish. On either side of the (closed) viewport were large ovoid portholes, both open and lit from behind similarly to optics.

Ratchet eyed his friend. "You dragged me outside. To show me. A ship."

The ship moved at that moment, shifting a landing gear until it could rest a bright porthole-optic on them**. "OH. HELLO. DID YOU DO SOMETHING TO MAKE HIM MAD, WHEELJACK?"**

"Don't go laughing at my expense, Flitter." Wheeljack said though with amusement rather than rancor. "This is an old friend of mine. Ratchet. He's an Autobot medic."

The porthole-optic shuttered and opened in what they assumed was a blink. **"PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, RATCHET, AUTOBOT MEDIC."** A pause. **"MY NAME'S FLITTER. IF YOU WANT TO BE TECHNICAL, IT'S **_**CRUISER FLITTER**_**, BUT EVERYONE ELSE JUST CALLS ME FLITTER."**

"Is the Captain aboard, Flitter?"

The ship blinked again. **"SHE IS, BUT SHE DOESN'T WANT TO BE DISTURBED. SHE'S IN THE PROCESS OF RECONNECTING MY RIGHT AILERON AND FIXING SOME INTERNAL DAMAGE WE SUSTAINED ON THE WAY HERE."**

Jack chuckled while Ratchet gaped at the ship. "You're much more talkative now."

"**BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE GUNS POINTED AT ME OR MY CAPTAIN."** Was the dry reply. The ship shifted. **"SHE IS DONE NOW. WAIT A MOMENT: SHE'LL BE DOWN SHORTLY."**

The ship proved to be right for the lift lowered and Wheeljack dragged Ratchet over to where the crowd was gathering excitedly. Flitter _was_ massive for a small-sized cruiser, after all, and it was nearly impossible for her voice to be quiet.

The first thing anyone saw was what appeared to be a crate with thick, gold and dark red legs. And then the crate moved and they noticed that there were hands wrapped around it. In anticipation they held their breaths, optics glued on the crate. A neutral captain that was a femme…it was almost too good to be true. The lift rose once more once the mystery femme stepped off.

The crate lowered and from behind it emerged one of the largest Cybertronians anyone gathered had ever seen. If this was the captain, then…she looked more mechish than feminine. Thick arms and legs, long as a femme's should be but thicker than a mech's, triangular blades along her spinal column, cold, merciless optics that stared through any façade, and the head of a Cybertronian Pit-Dragon atop her chest, she was fearsome, as tall as the Prime. Then there were the scars, a thick webbing of welding scars that hadn't been sanded down or painted over from some horrific accident that wrapped around her waist, legs, and torso like a possessive hand.

An optic ridge rose at her audience. "Well? Do none of you have duties at this moment?" immediately there was a round of nervous shuffling. "I thought so. Go to your duties and anyone who touches Flitter without my consent or approval will find their heads buried so far up their skidplates they won't know up from down." They fled.

Flitter rumbled in amusement. **"THAT WAS FUNNY."** She said once everyone save Wheeljack and Ratchet were out of audio range.

The femme snorted and looked up at the ship almost fondly. "I won't have what happened to you on Chaar and Ziploid be repeated." She said firmly. "Now you're _sure_ you'll be fine?"

The optic-porthole rolled. **"I'LL BE FINE, CAPTAIN. AND, BEFORE YOU EVEN SAY IT, I WILL INFORM YOU IF ANYONE TRIES TO TEST YOUR THREAT. SATISFIED?"**

The captain gave a wry grin. "Cheeky ship." She said, giving the landing gear near her an affectionate pat. Then she gave a dramatic sigh. "I guess your word will have to do." When she was about to bend and lift the crate once more, she caught sight of Ratchet and Wheeljack.

"Russet?" Ratchet breathed, barely more than a whisper.

The femme turned and stretched out to her full height, in the process highlighting more of her scars. She said nothing, but she didn't need to, having opened her arms to be filled with red and white medic.

* * *

"Oh, slag, where is he?"

"How could you manage to lose him?" Prowl didn't sound happy being looped into the Base-wide search for the errant sparkling.

Jazz glared over his shoulder at the younger mech. "He's much more of a handful than you were." He told his old friend, grin widening when Prowl made a face at the reminder that Jazz had been there when he was a youngling. "I turned my head for just one second and – poof – he's gone."

"Sparklings don't just disappear, Jazz." Prowl said disapprovingly.

"No, they certainly do not." Both whirled around at the familiar and yet strange voice behind them, only to find Wheeljack, Ratchet, and Russet with the sparkling perched atop her shoulders as she used to do with Prowl. The sparkling clicked and gurgled in amusement when he saw his previous caretaker, clapping his hands. Russet glanced up at the sparkling, a tender smile lighting her dark, scarred face.

For a long moment both Autobots were silent. Prowl stared blankly while Jazz threw himself at the massive femme. "Where've you been? We missed ya!" he exclaimed while Ratchet patted Prowl on the shoulder.

"I did the same," he assured his adopted son. "She just kinda showed up, hmm?"

The tactician nodded blankly. In the meantime, Russet was talking with Jazz as if she hadn't been gone for nearly four vorns. "I've been around," she told him amiably, gold optics dancing in amusement. "I have some stuff I think you'd like, but I think it'd have to wait for later. I was supposed to go and speak to the Prime."

Jazz took a step back and even Prowl and Ratchet looked at her. "Uh, Russ," Ratchet said quietly, drawing her attention. "Sentinel's dead."

Russet gave a soft sigh and shuttered her optics. "I know." She said sadly after a pause. "Jack told me."

Jack shuffled. "We should be going. I'm sure Prime's expecting you now."

They all nodded and in unspoken agreement moved down the hallway, the unnamed sparkling still perched on Russet's shoulders. "What's his name?" she asked, bouncing slightly to the sparkling's delight.

"He doesn't have one. Not that we know, anyway." Jazz told her. "We found him during a relief mission. The sole survivor of Kaon. No one else would take him so we brought him back here."

"We take turns watching him when we're not on shift," Jack explained and Russet fixed him with a glare.

"I hope you keep him far from your lab," she told him bluntly, an edge of maternal worry creeping into her voice. "I'd hate to see what would happen if this curious little bugger got into one of your experiments."

That got her a chuckle and the sparkling clicked and whistled happily from atop her shoulders. "I don't ever take him into my lab," Jack assured her.

"Better not," she muttered, twitching a helm-spire as the sparkling there began to gnaw on it with his half-formed dental plates.

Jazz winced. "Doesn't that _hurt_?"

Russet just blinked at him. "Your helm-horns are used as extra sensory input relays." She told him. "Thus they are extremely sensitive. Mine, however, serve no other purpose but to be distinctive. It was so my…former…boss could find me and my sister."

The former-artisan gave a wide grin. "I keep forgetting you were once my medic."

The femme said nothing in reply. They had the distinct feeling that she was somehow hurt by those words but no one could say anything for they had reached their destination. With the sparkling gurgling on her shoulders, Russet pressed the door chime to request entry.

When the door hissed open, she took a deep, soothing breath, pulling the sparkling off her shoulders. Once deposited in Jazz's arms and aware of the switch, it began to wail. Before her maternal instincts could kick in, she stepped into the room and closed the door. She could just barely hear the sparkling through the metal as it began to start its spark-tearing sound.

"You requested my presence, sir?" she asked stiffly, at proper military attention.

The Prime looked up and it was only her training that prevented her from gaping. "At ease, you are not one of my men." The Orion she knew was never this world-weary, never this friendly, never this wizened. She had a thousand words to describe Orion and though she loved her brother, she had never thought that he'd end up as a _Prime_. She eyed his frame discreetly. It had Alpha Trion's mark all over it. Spending nearly a stellar cycle with the old mech gave her an eye for his style and the massive mech – he was nearly _her_ size! – had it written all over him. "So you're a neutral captain."

Russet eyed him. He truly didn't recognize her, and she wanted to keep it that way. "Yes sir. I originally went off-planet in a research vessel. We crashed on a distant planet past Chaar and I was the only one that returned."

"I'm sorry." He said graciously, motioning toward a chair. "Please have a seat. You must be tired from your journey." The femme sat awkwardly on the chair, adjusting the forelegs of her Pit-Dragon form to drape loosely over the back of the chair. The Prime watched her carefully. "I apologize for being rude. My name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots." He inclined his head, waiting for a response from her.

"Russet, Captain of _Cruiser Flitter_ out there. Neutral."

"Russet," he repeated, sounding as if he frowned. The damned battle-mask he wore prevented her from completely gauging his emotions. "Have you ever… Never mind." He waved whatever he was about to say off. "It doesn't matter anymore." He sat back in his chair. "I'm sorry to bring this upon you in such a graceless and ineloquent fashion, but I would like to employ your services."

The captain's optics narrowed. "In what way, may I ask?"

The mask shifted and she guessed he gave a slight smile; his optics crinkled upwards too, just a bit. "As a courier and transport captain." He explained. "An Autobot captain, of course."

There was no hesitation. "No." The Prime was certainly startled. "I won't become an Autobot." She clarified. "I will be neutral and work for you, but I refuse to choose a faction."

Optimus Prime paused for a long moment. When it was evident that 1) it wasn't a joke and 2) she wasn't about to change her mind, he nodded. "All right. It will take a moment to get you the paperwork to sign to make it official, maybe a few solar cycles, but I'll get it to you as soon as I can."

Russet gave a sharp nod as the door chimed. The Prime frowned slightly behind his mask as he pressed the button to open the door. Immediately the sound of a wailing sparkling shot into the room, followed closely by Jazz bearing the unnamed sparkling who was the source of the racket. The former-artisan looked as frazzled as Russet had ever seen him.

"Sorry, Prime." He said quickly. "Bu' he just won't stop cryin'! Figured since he calmed down fer Russ earlier, he'll do it again." And with that the sparkling was shoved into her clawed hands.

She caressed the soft face gently, cradling the sparkling as if he were made of spun glass. Upon seeing her, the sparkling slowly stopped his piercing wail and gave a watery coo in delight. He raised his chubby fists upward toward her helm-horns and opened and closed them in a blatant question. With a laugh she lifted him and placed him on her shoulders where he promptly latched on to her right helm-horn and nibbled on it. If that action pained her (though she had denied it earlier), Russet showed no sign.

Optimus Prime was watching her in bemused disbelief. "I don't think I've ever seen him that calm." He commented.

Jazz grinned. "Jus' a part o' her natural charm," he leaned companionably over the back of her chair. As he probably intended, the mood of the room lightened considerably.

"I see you've met one of our few saboteurs." Optimus said dryly to Russet who nodded just as dryly. He addressed the former-artisan. "Jazz, you're bonded. Stop trying to hit on our new transport captain."

Russet turned and regarded Jazz who tried to offer her a winning grin. "Bonded, eh?" her gaze was frosty.

Immediately Jazz jumped back out of her reach. "Sorry, Russy, woulda told ya but…" he shrugged helplessly, seemingly pinned against the wall by her gaze.

"You and I," she said slowly, dangerously. "Are going to have a talk after this." it would've been dangerous and threatening, her looming over him from nearly across the room if it weren't for the sparkling on her shoulders. Even then they were too cautious of her ire to laugh and claim it was comical to see the unnamed sparkling coo and giggle from astride her shoulders.

"Right-o." giving a quick salute to Optimus Prime he fled.

The big Prime shook his head. "Don't kill him, captain."

The femme snorted and leaned back in her chair. "Wouldn't dream of it." She muttered sulkily.

Optimus Prime coughed awkwardly. "All right. Shall we get back to business?" the sparkling cooed in agreement, going back to nibbling on "his" helm-spire.

* * *

After nearly two cycles of talking with the commander about supply runs, comm. codes, storage capacity, crew members, fuel needed for Flitter, and speed of deliveries and flight capabilities, Russet was excused with the recharging sparkling in her arms.

No one was outside the door, not that she truly expected her friends to wait for her. They probably had duty. Consulting the map she was given, she made her way to the rec. room, shifting the sparkling in her arms. Optimus Prime had told her that most of the 'bots would be on shift, so the rec. room would be decently quiet, enough that the sparkling wouldn't be woken.

"Hey! Russy!" she turned her head at the sound of her nickname and scowled upon seeing Jazz. She altered course anyway, walking over. "Come have a seat."

She eyed the presumably empty seat in front of her and reached for an empty chair nearby, scooting in to sit between Jazz and Bumblebee. "I'm still mad at you," she reminded him as he grinned guiltily. "Don't try to trick me."

"Sorry," he said and the femme snorted. "Bee and Hound say you've met already," she nodded in greeting at the familiar faces. "That's Mirage over there." He nodded at the "empty" space. An orange prism shifted into existence, followed closely by a blue and white mech. Mirage nodded at her, optics piercing.

"How did you know I was there?" he asked, voice low and cultured. She could tell instantly that he was from the Towers. "Could you see me?"

She shook her head. "Only if I wanted to. I smelled you."

The mechs at the table looked startled as the sparkling in her arms shifted, reaching for something to nibble on. She gave him her knuckle and with a drowsy coo shoved it in his mouth before he went back to his recharge cycle. "Why am I not surprised?" Jazz asked dryly and they shared a conspiratorial smile.

"My senses are all much more sensitive than a normal mech or femme's." she explained to the startled mechs at the table. "That includes audio, olfactory, and optical sensors. Even tactile and armor sensors are slightly more sensitive. Once I got close enough I could hear your systems as well as smell them working."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mirage said dryly though without rancor. Russet grinned.

_**:Captain, incoming wounded. Refugees from south of the base. They look in pretty sorry shape.:**_

"Jazz, has there been a recent battle?" she asked, interrupting whatever Hound was saying about tracking. She cast him an apologetic glance before turning back to Jazz.

The saboteur looked startled. "Yeah, a few mega-miles to the south, I think. They were a recovery effort for Polyhex."

"They shouldn't return until two solar cycles from now." Bumblebee added, sounding just as startled as Jazz looked.

_:Flitter, run sensors to the south. Are there signs of battle?:_

There was a pause as the ship obeyed. _**:Heavy battle,:**_ she agreed.

"Flitter says there's incoming wounded." The mechs looked even more startled. "I think that that force you're talking about is coming home two solar cycles early." _:Flitter, get sky-side and report. Stay near the Base.:_

_**:Aye, Captain.:**_

"Are you _sure_?" Jazz asked and she turned steely gold optics on him.

"I trust Flitter." She told him, a trace of a growl in her voice. "If she says there's injured mechs staggering toward the Base, I believe her."

_:Optimus Prime to Captain Russet, come in.:_

Russet was on her feet. _:Captain Russet here, what is it?:_

_:Why is your ship hovering outside my window?: _She sent him a sitrep databurst detailing the situation and could almost feel his shock. _:Does the _Cruiser Flitter_ have shields?:_

_:Yes, sir.:_ she had an idea of what he was planning.

_:Can I ask you to go out and collect our troops? I'll send out a contingent of Autobots with you to draw the Decepticons' fire.:_

_:On my way, sir. What do I do with the sparkling?:_

The big Prime sighed over the connection. _:Take him with you. I doubt you'll see any combat.:_

_:Roger that. Over and out.:_ she shut off her comm. unit and with the sparkling in her arms, ran out the door. The claxons began to wail and intercoms began to screech, waking the poor sparkling from his recharge. She clutched him tightly to her chestplate and ran on as he began to whimper in confusion and fear. Consulting the map she took a right, squeezing into the lift as the doors closed. The other mech in there looked startled but said nothing, getting off at the next floor. _:Flitter!:_

The ship, as ever, knew what her captain wanted. _**:On my way.:**_

The sparkling was curled up in her arms, whimpering, by the time they reached the roof. Seeing Flitter, Russet leapt off the roof and into the lift. Despite his fear, the little sparkling clapped and giggled in glee.

"**Captain,"** Flitter asked slowly as Russet ran to the bridge. **"Why do you have a sparkling with you?"**

"Later, Flitter. We gotta get the injured mechs from Polyhex, as much as we can carry. Land and open the storage bay for the fighters coming with us."

"**Roger that."**

By the time they landed, the force Optimus Prime promised was waiting near the transport berths for them. There were ten of them with a few medics. At Russet's order, Flitter opened the lift for them and the captain provided them a room near the empty storage bay for them to work. Ratchet was among them but she couldn't do anything more than nod once in greeting before racing back to the bridge.

"Shields up, maximum output until we're a mile away from Polyhex."

"**Aye, Captain."** Flitter sounded excited, nearly shaking with glee at doing something _other_ than fly aimlessly around.

The sparkling giggled and clapped his hands as the ship's engines hummed and they sped up, zooming over the war-torn planet.

* * *

"Thank you for your help, neutral Captain Russet," Optimus Prime said solemnly, finding his new transport captain cleaning the entrance to the storage bay. She looked up at the big Prime, optics cautious.

"Flitter did more than I." she said, resuming her cleaning. Optimus noted uneasily that there were a lot of spilled and dried fluids on the ramp and wondered if she was starting or ending there. He didn't want to know what the rest of the ship looked like if the ramp was coated in fluid. "Sir, may I ask a question?"

The Prime blinked. "Certainly."

Russet looked up. "Why were those mechs out there? It couldn't have been to fight Decepticons." She said the opposite faction's name with a coating of disgust. "And though Flitter _did_ pick up refugees, they were the vast minority and were all older. Them that survived, that is." She added darkly, thoughts rising unbidden to the two younglings that had died while she and Ratchet had tried frantically to save them. She continued on, scrubbing the deck harder than was necessary. "Polyhex offers no tactical advantage other than it was a merchant city. Flitter and I flew over it when we were flying in and there were no ships."

Optimus Prime sighed gustily. "You prove a valid point." He admitted reluctantly. "I sent them there to retrieve data for shipbuilding. I have engineers here, but none of them know how to construct a ship. A large-scale one that we'd need for a large crew."

The captain regarded him. "So you sent an entire squad for data? In a known Decepticon area?"

"We need that ship, captain." He said with quiet authority and was vaguely surprised when she didn't back down, instead intensifying her gaze. "If the war continues at this pace, we would need more energy for we are burning up the planet's resources quickly. It hasn't reached that point yet, but we have another vorn or two before it gets there. Does that answer your question."

Russet snorted as she cleaned. "Flitter?"

"**YES, CAPTAIN?"** the Prime jumped at the sound of the ship – the _ship_ – speaking.

"Run scanners toward the Iacon spaceport, if you please. Remember what I told you?"

"**AYE, CAPTAIN."** There was a pause. **"IT'S STILL THERE."**

"Status?"

There was a slight pause. **"HEAVILY DAMAGED BUT REPAIRABLE."**

Russet glanced at the Prime. "When I left three vorns ago, they had been building a massive transport ship. A large-scale transport cruiser called the _Ark_. Flitter says it's still there." She gave a wry twist of her lips. "As you heard, it's repairable."

"How did we manage to miss a ship like that?" Prime asked, optics narrowed.

The captain grinned. "I'm guessing you don't have captains here. I'm your only one, and you obviously don't have any shipbuilders. As far as I know, only them and the ships themselves would know that all shipyards and spaceports have underground bunkers to store their ships. The _Ark_ would've been big enough that to store it, they'd have to take out most if not all of their smaller transport ships."

"Which was why all the ship berths were taken," Optimus Prime nodded in understanding. "Thanks."

Russet grunted, returning to her cleaning.

* * *

Prowl found her like that a cycle later. "Where's the sparkling?" he asked, worried.

"**HE'S INSIDE."** The ship said, startling the tactician. **"I'M KEEPING HIM OCCUPIED WITH MY COMPUTER WHILE THE CAPTIAN CLEANS."**

Russet looked up and blinked at her son. "What she said," she told him, jerking her head at the ship.

"It can talk?"

"She's sentient." The femme told him, looking back down at the caked fluids. "Can I help you?"

Prowl hesitated. "We all wanted to know if you'd adopt the sparkling." By "we" she assumed a majority of the Autobots.

"I was considering it." She said. "But I was offered a job with Optimus Prime as a transport captain. I will not do both at once."

"If you had to choose," the tactician said. "Which would you pick?"

Russet looked up again, optics solemn. "The sparkling." There was no hesitation.

Prowl nodded. "I thought so. May I ask why?"

The femme returned to her scrubbing. "Even though you're at war and need the transports, they're not the most important thing. This sparkling," she paused. "He has no life. No childhood. I don't want to see that happen to another sparkling."

"Who else have you seen it happen to?"

Gold optics rose and bored into his. "I saw it happen to myself and my sister." She washed off the remaining suds and beckoned him into the ship. "I'd rather no one else hear what I'm about to tell you." The tactician obeyed and the doors to the storage bay closed. "My creators were killed when I and my brother was young. Thankfully _he_ had been adopted by a nice family. My sister and I were not so lucky. We were trained at a young age to be mercenaries." She led him forward toward the bridge. "We had virtually no childhood." She turned suddenly, startling Prowl. "I don't want anyone to go through what I did, Prowl. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

"Having no childhood doesn't make you a monster." He argued.

"Oh? I didn't know the _meaning_ of the word happiness when my sister and I were found." She told him, suddenly passionately angry. "My life was filled with spilled fluids and death. That's all I had known. How old do you think I am, Prowl? Just assume."

The tactician hesitated. "Old as Ratchet. Around six or seven vorns?"

Russet gave a bark of derisive laughter. "I'm just over four. When I was ten stellar cycles old, I had the mentality of a full adult. Can you imagine, Prowl, the _burden_ of all of that? When _you_ were ten stellar cycles old, you were the size of this sparkling I have in the ship. You knew nothing of the world, nothing about killing, about how to fight and win pit-fights in Kalis. I _did_. My mind is older than my body."

"Is that why?" Prowl asked softly.

A low rumble answered him as Russet continued her way. "I will not let anyone go through that. You all mean well, but he is a _sparkling_. He needs to stay happy. If you keep him in the Base, he will know death before he needs to. He will feel the pain of losing friends, comrades, sparkling-sitters as one by one they fall in battle. Or watch them come back, dented and spilling fluids from a battle where their expertise was needed."

"**I like him."** Flitter added, causing Prowl to jump at the unexpected voice. **"I wouldn't mind going back to Kalin with him."**

"That's a good idea." Russet muttered. She turned to Prowl. "I want to help you, I really do, but I think I should raise this sparkling."

Prowl sighed. "Don't take me wrong on this, Russ, I need to ask. Are you sure?"

Russet nodded adamantly. "I will willingly come back and work as a transport captain _after_ he's grown. Give me a vorn and I'll be back."

"Ratchet won't like it. He missed you."

The femme regarded him almost suspiciously. "He will have to live with it. Prowl, I don't _want_ to leave again, but I have to for this sparkling."

"What about the other sparklings? The other ones we find in the wreckages of their homes?" he had to wince at his own cold voice.

As ever the femme took no insult. "Call for me." she said. "I'll come. Once he is old enough to understand the war, I will come back. Excuse me. Optimus Prime is calling." She clomped off the ship, leaving Prowl staring after her.

"**She really cares,"** Flitter told the tactician softly. Well, as soft as a ship could get. **"She told me about you. Said she was very happy that you were. That you had a nice childhood unlike her."**

Prowl blinked. "Where is the sparkling?"

The ship made a peculiar sound like a snort. **"In the control room. Just follow the corridor." **After a few astrokliks of walking he found the open door leading the control room-and-bridge where the laughter of a little sparkling poured out in a delightful babble.

* * *

Ratchet was displeased. She could hear and feel it. While it hurt her that he was displeased – with _her_ – she expected it and didn't blame him.

More than displeased, Ratchet was sad. It was a deep sadness that Russet knew. When they were alone, they shared it with each other. Every solar cycle until it was time for Russ to leave with the sparkling, they remained close, not daring to part as if connected by a fine strand of spun glass.

She watched Ratchet recharge, staring greedily at his form, the form of the mech she cared very deeply for. She took a visual capture of him before standing, taking his gift out of her subspace pocket. Drawing her clawed hands over the box, she smiled, knowing he'd like it. Leaving him a note and a kiss pressed to his chevron, she left.

And didn't look back.

* * *

The Elder Kalimna looked up, offering a smile to the femme as she entered his hut. _"Ah, great warrior. You return."_ He looked surprised to see the form of the recharging sparkling nestled in her arms. _"A child?"_

"_My planet is war-torn."_ She told him. _"He was an orphan a friend of mine found. I volunteered to watch him. To raise him. May I raise him in the Pack?"_

The Elder smiled. _"Of course, of course. You are always welcome here in the Pack."_

Russet bowed her head slightly. _"Thank you, Elder,"_ she said respectfully.

He held out his hands. _"May I?"_

The sparkling was transferred between arms, the wire-fine fur of the Elder brushing the protoform armor delicately. _"He is beautiful. Such a kind soul."_ He looked up at Russet. _"What is his name?"_

"_He has none, Elder."_

"_Will you give him one?"_

Russet nodded. _"Of course."_

"_What will it be?"_

"_I will name him Kanxelarngya."_

The Elder pondered the name for a moment. _"The-One-Who-Is-Like-The-Streak-Of-Blue-Across-the-Evening-Sky?"_ he asked thoughtfully. Then he smiled and stroked the soft face with a blunt digit. _"A fitting name, I think."_

The femme smiled to herself. _Bluestreak._


	19. All Your Base Are Belong To Us

**I don't think I need to explain where the chapter title came from. I do not own it, but I chose it because poor Blue has a hard time speaking Cybertronian. You can hear his complaints later in the chapter. He has, like, one translating error in this chapter (I had hoped to add more) but I can always do that later.**

* * *

_Present day..._

I found Gold in her office. She was rarely in, but since Mother died, she'd been locking herself in her office more and more often. It hurt, I knew. I didn't need to be a Xarmix to know that; anyone on the ship could see it.

They had been twins, after all. Ratchet had told me the mechanics and theory of twins before. But Windtreader and Windslasher were different. Very different.

Twins were bonded in a different way other mechs and/or femmes were. They were, in essence, one soul with two bodies. It was natural, the way they came out and very, very rare. However, their "jobs" with Keel Haul (I still shuddered to think of his name) and the changes they underwent as they worked with him gave them something else that was entirely unique. They became four minds with two bodies and one spark. Increasingly confusing.

But it was the thing that saved them the first time.

Fegali patted my shoulder, distracting me from my thoughts. I smiled guiltily up at him and his lips quirked upward in a slight smirk. "Don't try to avoid it," he told me. As ever, his lips didn't move and I felt a spark of guilt settle in a thick band across my chest. Fixing me a hard glare, he pointedly pressed the door chime and waited for Gold to call us in. "It's not your fault," he told me flatly. "I _chose_ this. And I'm happy with it."

The door opened and we entered. Gold looked down at us, upper torso leaning on her desk. She looked as if someone had taken the spinal column out of her back and had flopped over on the desk helplessly.

But I could never think of Windslasher as 'helpless.'

She _did_ look tired, though and I told her as much. My Mother's sister regarded me with dull, uninterested red-russet optics. When it was obvious that she wasn't about to say anything, I shook my head. "Tell me about Sentinel Prime's death."

Even Fegali jumped at my gall sometimes.

"What do you want me to say?" was the raspy response.

"Where were _you_?"

Slowly Slash rose from her flopped position. "I was there when Megatron entered the building." She said softly.

I blinked. "_Megatron_ killed him?" I felt Fegali press a hand against my back between my shoulder blades, his mind a comforting haven that soothed my aching one.

The femme nodded. "I was there. Speaking to him. I don't remember what it was about." She shook her head as if in denial. "I could've stopped it. I _should've_ stopped it. But all I could think about was Russ. Her face each and every time he insulted her." She slammed her fists on her desk and in a sharp, almost invisible motion she shoved everything off her desk with her arm, sending the once-immaculate stacks of data-pads and –chips careening into the wall. I was relieved to see that there were no dents or scratches in the wall; Amina wouldn't have been very happy if there was.

Slash was on her feet, pacing angrily. Fegali looked troubled. "And then Megatron was there. I watched him kill Sentinel. I heard him crying, begging me to help, but I was so numb." She snarled and turned angry optics on me. Fegali's hand fisted in my fur anxiously. A thought across our bond soothed him slightly. "She _loved_ him. I didn't understand it. She loved him, practically worshipped the ground he stepped on. And when he insulted her, she was hurt, yes, but it didn't matter so much to her. When I got mad at him for it, she told me not to. Told me that it didn't matter."

I understood then. Slash had loved her sister more than life itself. And it was that love that killed Sentinel Prime.

* * *

_Back to the Memoirs…_

_One vorn later…_

The forest was silent, the trees looming over the waving grasses, providing a warm blanket of shade over the smaller, more delicate species hidden beneath its boughs. The still air was broken only by the wind whistling through the leaves of the trees and the hiss-buzz of the flitters flying about, massive wings a blur as they beat to some internal harmony.

As if someone had suddenly put the scene on 'mute' the forest went quiet. Flitters found shelter in leafy boughs or tangled roots, petro-rabbits found solace in their burrows, and every beast in the forest hid and shook in silent fear. A lone turbohawk circled above, sharp blue optics trained on something that moved in the forest. A shadow marring the pristine beauty of the trees.

_:I have found the target. He is heading toward your direction, Kanxelarngya.:_

The cyberwolf hidden in the grass wriggled eagerly from his post guarding the youngling. Kanxelarngya absently reached out and patted the large shoulder beside him before concentrating on his target.

_:Thank you, Bird-of-Fire.:_ he said absently.

The cyberwolf's merry pants stopped as he closed his mouth and pricked his ears forward. _:I can hear his approach.:_

The ground had begun to shake by now and through the forest the dark shape of their quarry was a blob of shadow they could just barely see. _:I don't have a clear shot yet,:_ Kanxelarngya said, adjusting his rifle.

A low, deadly roar shook the trees as a smaller shape lunged at their larger adversary, enticing it to race forward. And race forward it did, his massive feet shaking the ground. The cyberwolf beside him bared his fangs, hackles rising. Kanxelarngya knew without looking that he was shaking, trying to remain silent and not give away their position.

When he could see the black and indigo armor through the trees, Kanxelarngya shifted and peered through his scope carefully, trying to find the spot in the armor that was his target. One-Who-is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves had marked the weak point in the armor for him and unless he had wanted to draw out the fight he would hit it. In the process she had been bitten, a wound that looked very painful and Kanxelarngya hadn't wanted to make her efforts in vain.

The fugitive was charging right at them, seeing the deliberate opening that One-Who-is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves offered him. The one that gave Kanxelarngya the best shot he could possibly get. He took a deep breath and found the missing chunk of armor that was his target. According to his Mother, it would sever the main nerves to the rest of the body. The fugitive's head and neck would still be able to move, but the rest of his body wouldn't.

_:I have a visual,:_ he reported, easing his finger on to the trigger. Behind the hulking beast of the fugitive he could see his Mother loping along after him. _:Taking the shot…:_

There was a low hiss as his rifle fired. The compressed energy crackled across the distance quick as a flash of lightning to find its target in the missing chunk of armor. Startled, the fugitive roared once before falling to the ground on numb legs. His long, mace-tipped tail swung through the air, momentum carrying it forward as he skidded to a stop along the grass.

The cyberwolf in the grass beside him leapt up and steering clear of the writhing head and neck of the fugitive, climbed along the shoulders until he found the missing chunk of armor and the shot. _:Shot confirmed. Neural net down.:_

Kanxelarngya stood up, stretching stiff joints from lying on his abdomen for such a long stretch of time. But it was worth it, certainly. Picking up his rifle and stand he slung the former over his shoulder and subspaced the latter, walking over to the downed fugitive as his Mother stopped on the opposite side. Her nostrils flared as she took in the scents around them, optics shimmering with pride.

_:That was a nice shot, Kanxelarngya.:_ she said, something akin to a smile twisting her thin lips upward to bare her needle-fine fangs. Her optics dropped to the fugitive at her feet. _:The fifteenth one this month.:_ she commented off-handedly.

Bird-of-Fire circled lower to land on her shoulders. _:They are getting brazen.:_

One-Who-is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves was quiet for a moment, studying the symbol emblazoned on the shoulder of the fugitive. _:Let us hope that this is the last.:_ the cyberwolf said, turning his head to look over at the valley where their Pack resided. _:They are beginning to get too close to the Pack for comfort.:_

Kanxelarngya patted his shoulder. "I agree with One-Who-Jumps," he said out loud.

His Mother shook her head, rattling the armor along her neck. _:Let us get him on the ship.:_ she said. As ever, she didn't show her unease.

* * *

Kanxelarngya found himself sitting on the hill near Flitter, staring over the Pack that adopted him, Bird-of-Fire, One-Who-Jumps, and One-Who-is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves. He could call them his Pack…but at the same time it didn't feel _right_. As if his true Pack was out there, somewhere else. Beyond the stars where his Mother told him his true race lay. Just as it did with her.

He could hear the wistfulness in her voice and wondered who she was thinking of when she told him of her Pack. Did she have a mate? Another child? If she did, she never told him about them.

He heard footsteps behind him but didn't need to turn to know that it was One-Who-Jumps and Bird-of-Fire. His _aargvarna_ sat down on either side of him, joining him in his silent vigil of the bustle of the Pack as the suns began to set.

"A feather I give for your thoughts in return." Bird-of-Fire said quietly, offering a scarlet-and-gold wing.

Kanxelarngya gave a soft smile at the turbohawk. He pulled a feather gently, running his fingers over the soft ridges before putting it in his subspace pocket. One-Who-Jumps, not having an avian alternate form, could not make such a trade, but it had never really mattered with them. He had, after all, always offered his broad shoulder in return. The youngest of the three found himself leaning against One-Who-Jumps's side comfortably.

"I am different," he said at last.

One-Who-Jumps gave an amused rumble. "If you were not, if everyone was the same, the world would not be beautiful." He said. "The scents would never change, the happiness in the world – in the universe – would die. Being different helps the Great One to know who we are. You do not want Him to make a mistake when He looks into your life."

Bird-of-Fire was quiet. "But this is not about being different, is it, _baenvarna_?"

Kanxelarngya curled up tighter against One-Who-Jumps. "I do not belong here."

"Neither do we. We are not of this Pack but they have accepted us all the same."

"It is not the same for you," Kanxelarngya said, feeling the gentle brush of One-Who-Jumps's fur against his faceplates. "You are not from a different planet entirely."

The fur against his faceplate rippled as One-Who-Jumps sighed. "So this is what it is about."

Bird-of-Fire cast him a glare before turning his gentle optics on Kanxelarngya. "It has never made a difference to us." He said very quietly. "You have always been Kanxelarngya, our _baenvarna_, to us. You were never an outsider: the thought had never crossed our processors even for the briefest of seconds."

Hearing it from Bird-of-Fire made it more real. The almost-feminine lilt of his vocalizations and the sheer honesty behind his words soothed him more than the gentle, friendly baritone of One-Who-Jumps's voice.

"One-Who-is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves said that Flitter was leaving in a month. To return to her – our – home planet."

"We know." One-Who-Jumps said very quietly.

"She told us," Bird-of-Fire added. He lifted a clawed hand and pressed it against his _baenvarna_'s cheek. "You should go with her. Find your true Pack."

Kanxelarngya winced. Had they heard his thoughts earlier? If they did, they gave no other sign. "We would miss you," One-Who-Jumps added as if sensing his turmoil. The cyberwolf grinned. "We will just have to make do taking care of those fugitives without you."

Bird-of-Fire offered one of his rare smiles. "Remember what One-Who-is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves always says."

One-Who-Jumps grinned. "The biggest journey in your life is to find who you are and then to live with it as the universe changes around you."

The youngest curled up against the soothing warmth of his _aargvarna_ and was silent.

One month later, when the _Cruiser Flitter_ left Kalin, he was on board, staring out one of the portholes on the side at the two shapes – one steely silver-gray and the other red-gold – dwindling rapidly, both set apart from the collective mass of the Pack bidding them good-bye.

* * *

It was hard to get used to the stunted, non-musical sound of the Cybertronian language. Supposedly _his_ language. He counted the language of Kalin more his than the one spoken on Cybertron.

Did that make sense?

It was short and choppy, with loud areas and soft areas that put stresses on certain parts of the word. Even those areas of tension and stress were short and stilted and the words felt like a rock was in his mouth, or that it was filled with some sticky substance that brought his jaws clicking together sharply.

It was very uncomfortable.

Most of all, he never realized how _boring_ it was on Cybertron. Well, he hadn't been there _yet_, but on the ship One-Who-is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves – who was called Russet – reformatted him, converting his alternate form into a Cybertronian vehicle. She also introduced something that he had never heard about for it simply didn't exist on Kalin.

It was called a Secret.

She made him swear on his very spark that he'd never tell anyone about the secrets of Kalin. Of how they lived on a semi-organic planet. Of how they could transform into passable creatures – real, living, breathing creatures that simply _looked_ organic. She told him of what they would do to Kalin. That they'd go there en masse and simply take over it. The bad mechs on their planet, anyway. The good ones would do no such thing, but they could not risk it at all.

So Kanxelarngya promised to keep it a Secret.

It was not hard speaking in Cybertronian. It was just…strange. Saying something as simple as 'hello' was a lot shorter than it sounded when he said 'hello' in Kalin. A deafening silence as he stopped. "Hello my name is Bluestreak" (his name in Cybertronian) was shorter than he expected it to be. In Kalin, a simple introduction could take as long as a…klik?...or two. A full introduction for him would be "Hello, my name is Kanxelarngya, The-One-Who-Is-Like-The-Streak-Of-Blue-Across-the-Evening-Sky. I am of the Winded Valley Pack in the Forest of the Valley of the Winds." The language itself was long, not so much the introduction.

He did not like the difference at all.

It wasn't until he was fully immersed in the world that Russet knew as well as Kalin that he realized how…sulky he was being.

The mechs called Jazz and Prowl (such short names!) were present in some of his earliest memories and they greeted him warmly. Russet told him that Jazz was a saboteur and Prowl was a tactician. She also said that they were bonded, though she gave Jazz a sharp glare as she said so.

Briefly Kanxelarngya – no, _Bluestreak_ – wondered why that was so. And what was _bonded_, anyway?

"_Mated,_" she told him, sounding amused.

He was introduced to Wheeljack next. He _liked_ the mech, but…some instinct from his previous alternate form prompted him to stay away from him when he had something strange in his hands.

It was the big mech called Optimus Prime that scared him the most. It wasn't until Russet told him that he was the Elders of the Autobots (the strange rag-tag group he had met before, the good guys) did he relax. Elders were always nice, always honest and fair. This mech called Optimus Prime could be trusted, so Russet assured him.

But to be honest, he was scared because Russet and this Optimus Prime were talking too fast for him to fully understand. His Cybertronian was rusty and he had a hard time comprehending the words he didn't know. To make up for it, Russet commed him translations of what was being said.

Some things he wished she didn't for a majority of the time they were speaking of the planet-wide war that raged across the…well, planet. Death tolls, skirmishes, the desperate need for soldiers, for fighters. Actual fighters, not scientists.

Scientists were well enough, Optimus said. But we need fighters. We have some Enforcers left over from the Complex and some refugees who had fighting experience whether legally or not. At this point it doesn't matter anymore. He sighed, a deep, world-weary sound. Then he gave a low, almost ironic chuckle. We even have some old pit-fighters with their beasts. But it's getting old and the battles're being lost.

For a moment Bluestreak felt indignant that this Elder _dare_ address his Mother as such. (In Kalin using contractions was considered incredibly rude, as if saying that the person being addressed was not important) Then he remembered that Russet had told him that contractions in Cybertronian and many other languages were seen as "all right," and sometimes even seen as a way to show that you're relaxed around someone. He bit his lip and judging by the way Russet's gaze flicked to him, she knew his predicament. Giving him a wink, she turned back to Elder Optimus Prime who didn't seem to notice her brief shift in focus.

"I want to help," Bluestreak said at last, when Elder Optimus Prime got back to the death tolls in skirmishes.

"I'm not sure you can, youngling," the Elder said gently.

It took him a moment to process the words and then he set his shoulders stubbornly. "I can shoot and I can fight. I used to help _konpf_ Russet fight escaped fugitives."

The Elder looked surprised and Bluestreak kicked himself inwardly for using a Kalin honorific in a Cybertronian sentence. Russet looked horrified, but he suspected that it was because he volunteered to help fight rather than because of the Kalin honorific.

"She allowed you to fight?"

Russet looked angry but now her ire was focused more on the Elder. "Yes. I let him fight. There we needed all the bodies we could and I figured that since his home planet was at war it would be prudent to teach him at least how to defend himself."

The Elder winced and Bluestreak realized then that in _this_ society, Russet could have enough authority as an Elder if she so wished. The though awed him. The Elder sighed at last. "What have you taught him?"

"Do you have a firing range?" Russet shot back. At the Elder's hesitant nod, she snorted and continued. Bluestreak was suddenly proud that he was of the few allowed to call this powerful force of might _kvika_. "Find me and Blue your best shooters. He'll beat them easily."

It was startling to hear that she had such faith in him but it warmed him nonetheless. "He can do that?" Russet gave the Elder a look that suggested she thought him fairly dim-witted.

Bluestreak tried not to laugh at his expense, giddy with the honor and faith his _kvika_ put in him. "He's slower at the fast-shots, but he's the best sniper I've seen and by now you _know_ my background." Abruptly the Elder snapped his lip components shut. Russet stood and grabbed Bluestreak's arm. She keyed open the door just as a red and white mech walked around the corner. _"Go with Ratchet right now."_ She told him firmly. _"I have told him to take you somewhere quiet where you can get your rifle ready. I need to talk to Elder Optimus. Alone."_

"Russ, wha-?"

The femme made a motion that stopped the medic in surprise. "Bluestreak, this is Ratchet, my old friend. Ratch, I'll tell you later. Just take him for now." With that, the door was closed unceremoniously on them.

Ratchet blinked down at Bluestreak. "Well," he said at last. "Let's get going."

* * *

Ratchet was scary, but Bluestreak liked him. Something about him reminded him of his _kvika_, the fierce protectiveness about him, the raw power of his words and whatever rested in his spark.

The medic watched him quietly, not interrupting as Bluestreak looked over his rifle, taking it apart bit by bit to clean it with the cleaning cloth he was offered, inspecting the barrel, trigger, and various other parts the medic had no name for.

"How long have you had that?" he asked.

Bluestreak looked up at him and smiled brightly. "_Konpf_ Russet gave it to me," he said cheerfully. "My…uh, older brothers and I used to go shooting. One of them would throw a target, I would shoot it, and the other would run and catch it. _Konpf_ Russet taught me how to…be a sniper?" At Ratchet's encouraging nod, he continued. "This rifle was a gift from her on my eightieth sparking day."

Ratchet nodded. "Russet told me you're really good with that."

The youngling grinned brightly again. "I…am glad that she puts so much faith in me. I did not expect her to…" he paused slightly. "I did not expect her to stand up for me to…Optimus Prime _Zilka_?"

The medic seemed to get what he was trying to ask. "His name is Optimus with a title of Prime."

He nodded, fixed the information in his processors, and went back to his rifle. "I did not expect her to defend me so…"

"Passionately?" Ratchet asked dryly. When Bluestreak nodded, he gave a soft snort. "Yeah, she's like that." He had such affection in his usually-gruff voice that Bluestreak had to pause. "She told Prime off when he tried to take you away from her."

Bluestreak put his rifle down. "She _did_?" it was _horrible_ for someone to tell off an Elder, and only mothers dared to do that.

The medic gave a dry laugh. "I was fortunate enough to be there giving him a report when she walked in. She was giving him her temporary resignation and told him in no uncertain terms that she wouldn't come back until you were old enough to make your own decisions."

"She did not…"

"Tell you?" Ratchet asked. He laughed. "That's the way she is, youngling." He patted the grey shoulder as the door opened.

Jazz walked in, a grin stretched across his face. "I hear around the Base that yer gonna have a shoot-off."

It took a moment for Bluestreak to translate the words. "Oh, no," he said slowly, not sure he misheard. "I am not going to shoot anybody."

"A shooting contest," Ratchet told him, sounding amused.

"_Oh._" Jazz grinned again. "Yeah, I am."

"Mirage's one of the best shots we have." The saboteur said.

Bluestreak glanced at Ratchet, confused. "Mirage is an infiltration specialist." While the youngling may not have understood fully, he got the concept that the Mirage Jazz was talking about was a mech rather than an illusion.

The youngling nodded. "Oh." He hesitated, his response sounding much too short to him. "I used to be a…field?...sniper with my brothers." He explained. "_Konpf_ Russet used to act as a primary fighter and would find the weak point in the armor that she could not catch. She would mark it and…send?...the…mech?...in my direction. One brother would act as a relay…er…scout and the other would act as a guard. I would shoot and sever the…he would…" he stopped, frustrated. "He could not move."

Ratchet whistled, sounding impressed. "You'd sever the neural relays?"

"He'd do better than that," Russet said from the doorway. "He'd take the shot before our fugitive could catch wind of our plan."

"How far away?" Jazz asked and the femme shrugged.

"A vun or so. Sometimes more. I haven't tested him fully yet." She turned to Bluestreak and smiled. _"Are you ready? They are almost ready for you."_

The youngling nodded so hard that they were all worried his helm would fly off. _"Almost done. I just need to put the parts back together."_ He gave the barrel one last polish before doing just that.

* * *

True to her word, Bluestreak beat the best sharpshooter they had in a sniping contest. It wasn't much of a challenge, considering Mirage – the sharpshooter-slash-spy he challenged – wasn't used to sniping the way Bluestreak was.

Apparently the Autobots didn't have a sniper of their own.

Of course, the sharpshooter beat the sniper in the sharpshooting contest, but it was obvious how _that_ particular competition would go.

Ratchet picked up her foul mood later that night after Bluestreak had been given room assignments. They had all been relieved to find that he bunked with Hound, a mech they all knew and trust. He was easygoing and reminded Bluestreak and Russet of One-Who-Jumps of Kalin. He would be fine.

A red hand found a place on the small of her back as he leaned against her large shoulder comfortably. _'What has got you so riled up?'_

Russet cast him a dark look over her shoulder. Her tail twisted but gentled when it reached his leg. It lashed back to the right and slowed as it swung to the left and Ratchet was briefly amused. Large hands closed around his upper arms and he yelped in surprise as he was lifted and placed gently on the railing of the balcony, at such a height that Russet was able to comfortably rest her head at the junction of his neck and shoulders. For safety and comfort (for who, he wasn't entirely sure) Ratchet wrapped his arms around her neck.

"_**Worried about him."**_ she said in three voices, momentarily startling Ratchet.

'_Angry,'_ she said.

'_**Scared,'**_ Ranthanoss added.

'_**Should not have brought him here.'**_ They said together.

"What's done is done," Ratchet said gently. They gave a low rumble but said nothing. "I think he'll be fine. You _know_ Jazz and Prowl will keep an optic on him, and Hound's a good mech. He won't let anything happen to Bluestreak." Gently he stroked the helm against his chest. "They grow up so fast, don't they?" he asked rhetorically. "You still have me, and Jack, and Prowl, and Jazz…Prowl still sees you as a creator-figure, you know? Why don't you tell him-?"

'_**NO!'**_ the harsh denial startled him and he jumped. If it wasn't for her arms around his waist (when did _those_ get there?) he would've fallen off the balcony. She actually _trembled_ beneath his hands. _'No,'_ she said softer. _'No.'_

Ratchet sighed. He knew that that would be the most he got out of Russet that night. "Let's get to our recharge cycles. We have a long day tomorrow."

* * *

_Narzenim's Notes:_

_-_konpf _vs _kvika_ vs. _Zilka: konpf_ is an honorific term (think _Herr_ in German as in _Herr _Hitler…I think…). _Kvika_ is a term, less of an honorific term than _konpf_ that means more or less _Mother_. _Zilka_ is an honorific title for an Elder. It comes _after_ the name like the Japanese '_–sama.'

_-On Kalin and in its language, it's considered incredibly rude to use a contraction (i.e. don't, can't, I'll, we'll, etc.) when addressing or talking about someone. Like Japanese and Spanish, there are particular ways to address people depending on age (gender doesn't matter so much to Kalins). It is still not all right, however, to use contractions no matter the difference in age or status_

_-Elders are analogous to Alpha males in Earth wolf packs. They are generally the oldest and wisest Kalins in a familial group known as a Pack. In many ways, Kalin culture is a lot like a wolf pack._

_-Kalins are said to be distantly related to Cybertronians though they, unlike their distant cousins, have a much easier time gaining the alternate mode of an animal. Unlike Russet (or should I say _konpf_ Russet?) they closely resemble what the animals look like in the wild. They have fur and feathers and scales, etc. It was tradition on Kalin that when a youngling becomes of age (approximately sixty or so Earth years old) he or she would go out and hunt for their alternate mode. Unlike many on Earth and Cybertron, Kalins found alternate forms that fit their personality rather than their size and mass._

_-I didn't have data on Cybertronian units of measurement. To my embarrassment I had to ask around. A hic is approximately one kilometer. A vun is around one hectometer._


	20. You Left Me Just When I Needed You Most

_**YOU LEFT ME JUST WHEN I NEEDED YOU MOST**_

_Many vorns later…_

Russet was very displeased, and anyone in her way knew (by then) better than to get in her way. They scattered out of her way as she stomped to Prime's office, the triangular spines along her back raised into a deadly, furious fray. Her dark armor was covered in ash and soot, some blatant scorch marks marring the scuffed paint. No one dared stop her.

The command crew – now including Ultra Magnus, Kup, Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Wheeljack – all jumped in surprise when the door opened suddenly, a very angry femme behind the motion.

"Russet," Optimus frowned behind his faceplate. "You aren't supposed to be back for at least five solar cycles."

Ratchet was on his feet, seeing the injured state of his friend. "What _happened_ to you?"

Before their eyes she coughed up a spark before snarling, vocalizations unusually shaky and static-laced. "I got fra-_shht!_-ng shot do-_shht!_-n." she snarled, seemingly oblivious to the malfunction of her vocalizations. The armor along her back and shoulders bristled. "Flew on _–shht!-_ my _–shht!-_ run. Frakki-_shht!-_g 'Cons go-_shht!-_t there fir-_shht!-_t."

"Calm down, Russ," Prowl tried. She snarled at him, the second half of which breaking off into static as she twitched.

"What's wrong with her?" Jazz asked Ratchet who grabbed his friend's wrist and shoved her into a chair.

"Concussion blast, I'm guessing." The medic grumbled. "Scrambled her vocal processor a bit."

"Fi-_shht!_-ne!" Russet snapped.

"Like Pit you are," Ratchet snapped back, smacking her upside the head. She blinked and paused in surprise and the medic took that time to find a data interface port at the base of her skull. "Why didn't you report to the med-bay?" he grumbled as he plugged the cable in.

Russet snarled, an echoing sound coming across Ratchet's functioning vocalizer. "No time," she growled and Ratchet winced at the harsh timbres of his friend's voice. Sensing what the medic wanted her to do, she turned to the command staff. "Flitter picked up some Decepticon signals when we were approaching the pick-up point. When we got there, the Decepticons had killed the crew of the vessel, hung their bodies from the back of the ship, and had picked up our signal and were closing in on us."

Optimus Prime sighed. "I was afraid that this would happen."

Russet snarled in her body while Ratchet glared at the big Prime. "And you didn't _warn_ her?"

"It's –_shht!_- gonna ta-_shht!-_ke deca—_shht!-_cycles to fi-_shht!_-x Flitte-_shht!-_r."

"You're ship's damaged?" Kup sounded disappointed.

"Did she not just say that?" Ratchet snapped as he found the other clasp in her chestplate. He pulled off the heavy chest and neck armor and inspected the inner layer. "There's no damage I can see through your plating. You must've inhaled something." He replaced the chestplate and went to her mouth. "Open." He ordered.

"How badly?" Prowl asked.

Russet pulled a portable comm. unit from her subspace pocket and placed it on the table. From there, Flitter's voice listed her injuries. **"Ailerons severely damaged, right rear engine functioning at 25 percent, missing my left aileron and half of my left forward engine. Heat shields functioning at 5 percent, plating damaged, tailfin not functioning."**

The gathered mechs winced. They had so few ships and captains that each and every one was a precious resource. Ratchet continued his inspection of her mouth and throat. "Self-repair systems are on it. It's only minor wounds, but you shouldn't speak for at least a cycle or you'll ruin the work." He said, patting her shoulder.

"I'll go fix Flitter now." Russet grumbled. Getting up, she stalked angrily out the door, pausing just long enough for Ratchet to pull the data cable out of her port.

"I keep tellin' ya, she should be a frontliner, not some transport captain." Ironhide drawled.

Ratchet fixed the older mech with a glare before returning to his seat.

* * *

'_Now it's your turn to leave us, hmm?'_ Russet asked, not looking up as Ratchet climbed up on Flitter's wing beside her.

'_You know it's not the same thing.'_

A twitch of her back-spines. _'We didn't say it was.'_

Ratchet leaned against an uninjured part of the ship, for all intents and purposes looking as if he were watching an old friend work. _'We _have_ to make that run, Russ.'_

A gold glare from the femme as she paused in separating the torn wiring. _'We know, Ratch,'_ she said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

A new voice entered their 'private' conversation. _**:Ugh, you guys make me sick. I don't know how you can stand it, Ranthanoss.:**_

'_Mute it, Flitter,'_ Russet growled though a smile was twitching the corners of her grey lips upward.

'_**With a lot of patience and a lot of blackmail,'**_ Ranthanoss purred.

Ratchet gave an odd snorting sound as he tried to hold his laughter in. Flitter opened a door nearby and he raced inside, barely waiting for it to close before he collapsed in laughter.

'_Ranthanoss!'_

'_**What, I'm not allowed to make a joke?'**_

_**:I doubt that was a joke,:**_

'_All right, enough laughter at my expense. Mute it you two.'_

'_**Make me.'**_

_**:Make me.:**_ Flitter said an astrosecond later. There was a shuddering and Flitter yelped in pain. Ratchet guessed that Russet had tugged a bit of wiring she had been working on. _**:Muting it, Captain.:**_ she meekly a moment later.

Ranthanoss continued to laugh but eventually fell silent. Ratchet guessed that they were speaking to each other for a few moments. Ranthanoss and Russet were very close, and the way they spoke to each other was not necessarily the same way Ratchet spoke with them. He heard only what they were willing to share with him.

Turning, he walked idly around the ship. Flitter never minded his presence, and Russet, if she was ever aboard, welcomed it. He found his way down the familiar corridors to the control room where he sat himself down at one of the consoles. Flitter never minded that, either. In fact, as he settled himself the screen lit, displaying the last game of Stratagem they had been playing.

"How long do you think we'll be gone on the _Ark_?" he asked, moving his piece out of the way of her attacking one.

Flitter made a thoughtful sound as she inspected the holographic board. Despite what people thought, Ratchet knew that Flitter was a real person who lived in the body of a ship. For all intents and purposes, she _was_ the ship and not a true AI. Because of this, she lacked the high intelligence of a normal computer, though he didn't mean that she wasn't smart. **"Well, the **_**Ark**_** is a large ship,"** she said as she hesitantly moved a piece forward. **"Its engines are large and powerful. Depending on how far you have to travel for energy, I cannot accurately say when it is likely you'll return." **The ship made an irritated noise when Ratchet's piece destroyed hers. **"However, judging by how far **_**we've**_ **had to travel for your runs, I'd guess that it will be drastically less than a vorn but longer than a stellar cycle. Maybe three or four, depending how slow the **_**Ark**_** is."**

Ratchet winced as Flitter's piece destroyed four of his in retaliation. "I thought it'd be longer," he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"**Probably, knowing how slow transports can get,"** there was a hint of disgust in the ship's voice and the medic stifled a laugh. For whatever reason, Flitter _hated_ transport ships. She made an odd sound. **"But the **_**Ark**_**'s a cruiser."**

"What's the difference?"

An image appeared on the main terminal, a femme crossing her arms over her chest. He assumed that the image was what Flitter actually looked like. She gave him a look that suggested that she was not amused. A delicate hand rose to her chest indignantly. **"**_**I**_** and the **_**Ark**_** are **_**cruisers**_**. Not transports. There's a difference."** She said. Then she adopted a stance that Ratchet recognized as one Russet took when she was irritated. **"Cruisers are smaller and less heavy-built than transports are. Transports are slow and ugly. Cruisers are fast and prettier than transports."**

"Is that a trace of vanity I hear?" Russet drawled, walking into the bridge. She carried her tool pack over one massive shoulder, placing it down near a console.

The femme on the main terminal sniffed as Ratchet got into a coveted strategic position on the game board. **"No, Captain, it's the truth. Transports are **_**ugly**_**."**

Russet laughed, a carefree sound that Ratchet had never heard before. "That's your own opinion," she pointed out. "I happen to think that transports are prettier than cruisers." Flitter looked so honestly shocked that Ratchet bit his lip components to keep his laughter inside. "They're slow, yes, but they're strong and resilient." Russet's optics took on a teasing glint. "And they're less likely to notice patches where an enemy ship shot a cruiser because said cruiser was too slow to move out of the way."

Flitter huffed. **"I did not get injured because I was **_**too slow!"**_ by the sound of things, it was an old argument.

The captain flapped a clawed hand at her. "I'll leave you to your bouts of denial. Will you open the upper hatch for me?"

The ship grumbled. **"Why should I? You just insulted me."**

An amused glance. "Well, dear, I'm fixing you. That should be a good reason." She said sweetly.

It was amusing to hear their friendly banter, and all too soon Russet, with her tools, had leapt nimbly up through the hatch that opened after Flitter grumbled for a little longer. He leaned back in his chair, relaxing.

* * *

…_a few solar cycles later…_

Russet didn't look very happy to be dragged away from repairing her ship, but since she couldn't fairly trade swipes of her claws with Chromia, she allowed herself to be dragged away, albeit reluctantly.

"You don't want your bonded to fly off without a proper farewell, do you?" she had all but purred while Russet gave a mechish snort.

"He's not my bonded, Chroe." She grumbled.

"You _want_ him to be, so it's all the same." The ex-engineer replied cheerily. "Now go on," careful of the other femme's deadly spine-blades, Chromia pushed her forward, closer to where the crew was preparing to leave on the _Ark_. It just so happened that when she stopped, Ratchet was there, in front of her.

'_Not my bonded, hm?'_ he asked, sounding amused while aloud he said, "Hey, Russet."

Russet gave one of her rare smiles. "Hello, Ratchet." _'I belong to nobody, Ratchet.'_ She teased silently.

'_I see.'_ Ratchet said, moving to wrap his arms around as much of Russet's abdomen as he could. _'Are you worried for me?'_

A soft snort. _'Of course.'_ A gold optical lens shifted to peer at him. _'But I know that you can take care of yourself. I cannot help but worry.'_

He gave a soft smile, resting his head against the forehead of her Pit-Dragon mode, careful of the various spines, spikes, and horns. _'What would you do if something happened to me?'_

Russet gave a low, almost inaudible snarl. _'Specifically?'_

'_If I died.'_

A long period of silence broken only by Russet's low growl. _'Ranthanoss and I would kill whoever was responsible. And after everyone was dead, we would join you.'_

'_How?'_

He was aware of a brief prickling of surprise from Russet: he usually didn't ask about how she would pull her threats through. _'We would reach down his throat and drag his spark out through his mouth components.'_ Was the reply.

'_Sounds painful.'_

Armor shifted slightly in morbid amusement. _'They can't scream, though.'_

'_True.'_

'_Why these questions, Ratch?'_

He hugged her tighter, unafraid of harming her through her thick armor. _'I just needed the reassurance.'_ He said. _'Thanks, Russ.'_

'_Anytime, Ratchet.'_ She said very quietly, leaning her head down to rest against his helm, as ever careful of his pointed chevron.

Both were mutually reluctant to bid each other 'farewell,' or even to voice the words 'goodbye' or some derivative thereof. It was just too final in this war. So instead they said that 'I'll see you later,' and parted ways.

Neither wanted to admit it – to themselves or anyone else – that the parting hurt them more than any wounds could possibly have dreamed. But despite this, Ratchet knew that it was so much worse for Russet, for many of her close friends were going on the _Ark_. Bluestreak, who she had raised for a vorn; Prowl, her son though he didn't know it; Jazz, a friend who she had helped regain his vision; Wheeljack, one of her first Academy friends; Ironhide, her first friend; Optimus Prime, her brother who didn't know of the existence of his twin sisters; Mirage, who shared her rare talent for making others think that they weren't there; Hound, who was friendly to her despite her fearsome appearance; little Bumblebee who, Ratchet knew, made her wonder how old he was and if he was old enough to fight as an Autobot; her twin sister, Gold, who had avoided her almost like the slag pits the Decepticons had.

Gold was a whole new puzzle altogether, Ratchet thought as he boarded the ship. The massive cruiser. He smiled slightly, remembering his argument with Flitter and Russet about cruisers versus transports. The femme had disappeared for a long while until just after Russet returned with Bluestreak. And as suddenly as she had appeared, she was placed aboard the _Ark_ as another frontline warrior.

He knew that his dear mate's sister was a much more accomplished fighter than she was (it was a fact that she easily admitted to), but something didn't sit well with either of them, having the massive golden femme aboard.

Out of the corner of one optic, Ratchet watched her as they began the take-off procedure Russet and Flitter had worked with them on. He'd be sure to keep an optic on her for sure.

The countdown begun and Ratchet stared out the viewport nearby, feeling the deck rumble as the engines turned on. He could not see Russet – it was nearly impossible to see anyone, for they had all taken refuge out of the blast zone and were watching the _Ark_ fly off from the Complex. For a moment, though, he fancied he saw her giving him one of those rare smiles of hers and waving.


	21. 21 Guns

_Present day…_

Fegali gave me a glare and the fur along my spine rose stiffly beneath his harsh gaze, my ears flattening to my head.

"I _have_ to, 'Gali." I told him quietly.

His engine growled, voicing his displeasure. "I don't like it."

I wrapped my arms carefully around his waist and pressed the side of my face into his chestplate like I used to do when I was younger. "I know, 'Gali."

At last he sighed and placed his hand between my shoulder blades, conveying his worry for me without words. Then he released his hold and transforming, sped down the corridor for monitor duty with Amina. Hesitantly I rang the chime at Slash's door, stepping back slightly as it slid open with a quiet _hiss_. She glanced up at me and I paused to shiver slightly – only slightly, for I was used to Barricade and Skywarp's optics though seeing almost-red optics in what was almost Mother's face made me shiver all the time – before walking in.

"How did you join the Decepticons?"

The ex-Decepticon femme put down her stylus and sat back in her chair. It was easy for me to leap nimbly up to the top of her desk. As I was constantly (and irritatingly) reminded, I was basically a big cat.

"Barricade," she said simply. "Why?" My fur fluffed out in irritation as I sat down and pulled out a spare data-pad and a stylus from my bag. Quickly, I explained to her what I was doing while she listened with quiet attentiveness. When I was done, her tail shifted and her optics narrowed and she looked down at her data-pad. I guessed that it was a reader, though of what I wasn't entirely sure. "I won't be like Ratchet and give you my journals," she said at last. "Forgive me for that. But whenever you have a question, you can come to me at any time."

I found myself grinning in relief. "Thanks, Slash."

She nodded, though her optics saw a time and a place that I didn't know. "Well, it was around the time that Sentinel Prime was killed. Just before it, actually, I had met him. He was hardly a vorn old." she paused and looked at me as I scribbled notes on my data-pad.

Noticing that she stopped, I looked up at her, raising a furred brow. Ah, the age difference. My ears flattened and I snorted at her. For races that live for as long as Cybertronians and Xarmixkealans do, ages don't seem to matter as much. I was still young, but living with a near-immortal race, with beings that were probably as old if not older than my home planet, age seemed trivial. From a human standpoint, however, the phrase 'robbing the cradle' would apply in Slash and Barricade's case.

Aforementioned femme looked vaguely embarrassed. "Right. Sorry. Dealing with the delegates too much," she apologized, making a vague motion with her clawed hand.

I had to grin at that. The unlucky soul who dealt with the human delegates was always pitied. It was a game among the high-command of the _Jossine_ to draw straws, the loser going to deal with the pesky humans. Which made it worse for me, considering that Fegali had to participate in it and if he was called I would have to go in his stead due to his inability to speak to others.

"I'd been attending a rally as an Enforcer – off-duty of course – and ran into Barricade. Literally." Slash smiled fondly. "He was the one to convince me to join the Decepticons, the one to be a spy in the Autobot ranks to prove myself to _lord_ Megatron." The warlord's title was said with a trace of disgust in her voice, her lips curling downward. As she spoke, I wrote in my data-pad.

* * *

_Four million years later:_

_Earth time: 1984 AD_

The Decepticon peered down at the femme whose growth had been slowed and stunted by stasis-lock and lack of energon. The optics of the beastly femme, though, were as sharp and clear and dangerous as ever. Megatron waved a hand at Hook. "Hook, outfit our new recruit with something more proper of a Decepticon," he said, inspecting the dangerous form of the Pit-Dragon before him. "Wings, I think. And find her some Decepticon sigils."

The Constructicon glanced at his leader sidelong. "Yes, lord Megatron." He murmured, giving the silver mech a slight bow.

"But first," he said, ruby optics narrowing. "We must think of a proper name for her. What do you think?"

The femme transformed smoothly and almost delicately, the power hidden beneath her feminine grace. "Slash." She said, mouth parting in a fanged grin. "Is that acceptable…my lord?"

Megatron gave a nasty grin in reply. "I like it. Welcome, Decepticon Slash."

Slash bowed, the garishly bright sunlight of the wretched planet they had crashed upon shining against her bright yellow armor even though it was coated in dust. It was a color they'd have to fix: no Decepticon who was as dangerous as her should be subjected to such _cheerful_ colors. "Thank you, Lord Megatron."

* * *

"_Ultra Magnus to _Shadow Flash,_ come in please."_

Flash sighed. This was the ninth message in the last cycle and quite frankly, it was annoying her. **"What? **_**What**_** do you **_**want**_**?"** she snapped, rules of decorum conveniently forgotten and purged from her memory banks for that cycle where she had to deal with the pesky Autobot.

There was a long pause as the Autobot undoubtedly rocked back on his heels, startled by the sudden outburst. _"I'd like to speak to the captain, if you please."_

"**Captain's busy or **_**she'd**_** have answered. You can tell me and stop calling, or you can **_**wait**_** for her and have your calls ignored or blocked."** Flash snarled. **"Because quite frankly, I'm irritated and if you call again and the Captain's not here, I'll hang up on you."**

A startled silence, then meekly Ultra Magnus gave her the message. When he hung up, the turbohawk in the corner gave a low _krrarrkrrarr_ in laughter. If she didn't know better, it sounded like he was choking on something.

"**Hush, you,"** she said without rancor. The turbohawk continued his sounds though louder. He flapped his wings and shifted on his perch, still laughing. **"CAPTAIN, WE HAVE A JOB FROM THE AUTOBOTS." **She called over the ship-wide intercom.

Because honestly, she had _no_ idea where her captain was.

She addressed the turbohawk and the cyberwolf that walked in a moment after she finished her announcement. **"Don't get your hopes up,"** she told them. **"It sounds pretty boring."**

The cyberwolf gave a _yamph_ that made his kind famous and sat down beside the turbohawk, tail clicking along the tiles. Together, they waited.

* * *

_Three Earth days later…_

Ratchet frowned. A mercenary? Did they truly need one? When he voiced his thoughts, Prowl had frowned.

"This mercenary that Ultra Magnus is sending to us is the best of his kind, and we need the very best to deal with Decepticon Slash." The tactician pointed out.

Ironhide nodded. "She's been a'tearing through our lines like they weren't there. Rackin' up the injured list."

The medic made a face at the reminder. "I remember." He snapped. "If you recall, I just spent two days repairing the twins." Every time he thought of the Lamborghini Twins, he had a pang in his spark. He thought of the Dragon Twins (as he thought of them) instead. He saw their faces superimposed over theirs. Russ, the broody Sunstreaker. Gold – no, Slash – the dangerously charismatic Sideswipe.

Whatever happened to Russ? The bond between them rang hollowly.

As if he could read the medic's thoughts, Jazz cast him a sympathetic look. And Ratchet knew that though Prowl hid it, he was worried about Russet, too. Prowl looked down at his notes. "The mercenary's name is Peril. I've managed to get an ETA from Ultra Magnus. He should arrive in a few days with his crew."

"How many in his crew?" Optimus asked.

"Two, both mechs." Was the prompt reply. "Not much more is known. His ship is a small-sized cruiser called the _Shadow Flash_. It's not registered as either faction, and reports say that he's shown dislike for discrimination against any faction enough that there have been injuries reported by others who have asked him what faction he belonged to."

The gathered mechs winced. "Are you sure it's wise to bring such a dangerous mech here?" Red Alert demanded. "This mech sounds more like a Decepticon than anything else!"

Prowl inclined his head. "However, Ultra Magnus tells us that he is probably the best out there for all he works when he feels like it and doesn't follow any rules of decorum."

"Fer all he's th' best, he sounds _worse_ than a filthy 'Con." Ironhide muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"Do you have any other data on this mech, Prowl?" Optimus asked, heaving a very human sigh.

The tactician shifted through his notes. "None of the Autobots on Cybertron have seen him, and it's unlikely that any of us have seen this Peril, for he began bounty hunting and mercenary work after we had departed on the _Ark_. The only data that I have is that he has two scouts with him, one for land and one for the air. Both of which have a difficult time speaking Cybertronian, and usually handle the negotiations between Peril and whoever he's working with." He consulted his notes before plugging the data-pad into the main monitor. A picture of a pitch-black ship appeared on the screen, docked in what they recognized as the Iacon spaceport. Or what was left of it, anyway. "This is his ship, the _Shadow Flash._ It's a small-sized cruiser, probably around four or five vuns. Top speed is not known."

Jazz nodded. "You're right. I've neva heard o' this mech, Peril, an' if he'd'a been workin' anytime 'fore we left on da _Ark_, I'd'a heard o' him."

Optimus sighed. "Is that all the data you have, Prowl?"

Prowl looked perturbed but nodded. "All the data I have on Peril is on this data-pad." He said, lifting his notes. "It's not much."

"How did Mags get himself a bounty hunter?" Jazz asked, leaning back in his chair thoughtfully. "Bounty hunters _an'_ mercenaries cost lots ta buy." He explained. "Since now Cybertron's not much in way o' shoppin', there's not much reason ta pay 'im in credits."

"He can get them converted elsewhere," Ratchet pointed out.

Jazz nodded slightly. "Bu' since Energon seems ta be risin' in value 'til i's worth more'n regular credits."

Optimus frowned beneath his faceplate. "So Ultra Magnus may be paying him with Energon?"

"It would appear so." Jazz nodded. "'Course we could jus' ask 'im when 'e comes."

The door opened and they all jumped. Hound poked his head in with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but there's two mechs out here askin' ta see Prime."

The command crew traded glances. At last, Prime stood and with Prowl flanking him as usual, they walked out the door. Prowl paused in the doorway, flicking his door-wings as he turned around. "Meeting adjourned." He said, freeing the rest of the crew in the meeting room from the strange silence that froze them in their tracks. Then he turned and resumed following Prime to the entrance of the crashed _Ark._

Curiously, Jazz, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Red Alert followed them out, the last worrying about a possible Decepticon attack. Instead they found Hound and Bluestreak outside, the grey Datsun talking animatedly to a pair of strange mechs.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Optimus asked politely, drawing the attention of the strange mechs.

The larger one was covered in long grey fur not unlike an Earth husky with cerulean spots along his abdominal and back armor. His optics were bright gold, holding an interested if not feral glare to them.

The one beside him was smaller, perhaps just barely taller than Bumblebee, the top of his head level with the other's mouth. His colors, in sharp contrast to that of the other mech's, were bright scarlet and orange, reminding the Autobots of a branch of fire. Also in contrast, he was covered in feathers, with two wing-like struts folded along his spine with a fan of long, avian tail-feathers trailing behind him like a skirt. Bright blue optics bored into them with the intense glare of a hawk.

While the first mech looked strong and solid, the second appeared almost willowy, almost feminine. Both had clawed digits and the Autobot Commander and his tactician noticed that they wore the pelts of Cybertronian animals, the grey one bearing the speckled hide of a cyberwolf and the red and orange one bearing the dangerously beautiful plumage of a turbohawk.

"Ah, sir!" the gunner said, spinning around in an impressive move, saluting him smartly as Hound did likewise. "I didn't hear you coming."

Prowl nodded to Bluestreak. "At ease, Bluestreak. Hound."

The grey mech regarded them almost thoughtfully, his avian counterpart lowering into a wary half-crouch. "Yes," he said carefully as if he wasn't entirely confident with his use of English. "I have requested an audience with you, I believe. You are Optimus Prime _Zilka_, correct?"

"Permission to speak, sir." Bluestreak said, nearly wiggling in his eagerness.

The Autobot Commander nodded, startled. "Granted."

Bluestreak stepped forward, moving to stand beside the wary avian mech. "_Zilka_ is an honorific," he explained. "It means that…er…he's recognizing you as an authority figure. They're having a bit of trouble speaking English."

"You know them?" Prowl asked, door-wings shifting upward slightly.

The avian mech's optics immediately zeroed in on the movement like a hawk. Bluestreak murmured something to him and he gave a whistling snort. "Yes. I was raised with them. This here is…well, his name translated would be Firebird. The other is Jumper." He pointed first to the avian mech then the grey one.

"The _Karzenmalank_ has asked us to…mm… visit you." Jumper said, casting a glance at Bluestreak.

Firebird shifted, clenching and unclenching his clawed fists. He seemed to a nervous creature, optical lenses flashing from mech to mech. Then the femme-like mech spoke in a voice that was musical (if a bit clumsy). It also sounded a bit feminine. "We were sent by Peril _Zilka_ to speak to you," he clarified.

The Autobots blinked at each other as Bluestreak chatted with grey Jumper. "Jumper says that the Cybertron Autobot Commander – it's Ultra Magnus, right? – assumed they were on Cybertron when he hired them for a job when they were actually halfway between Earth and Cybertron." The gunner said. "He says that's why it seems that they came early." He told the gathered Autobots.

"I'm sure they could have told us that on their own," Prowl frowned.

Firebird and Jumper traded glances while Bluestreak shook his head. "They don't know the English names for 'Cybertron,' 'Earth,' or 'Autobot.' That's why Jumper was talking to me." he said cheerfully. "And Jumper says that they have a hard time speaking either English or Cybertronian."

The avian mech Firebird made a peculiar whistling noise. "We did not have enough time to learn a lot." He admitted. "_Idvikan Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak_ has taught us…a little, but we still do not know a lot."

Optimus turned to Bluestreak, raising a brow ridge. "_Idvikan_ is an honorific term for a ship or cruiser." The gunner explained quickly. "_Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak_ is the name of the ship. Translated, it means…" he paused, thinking. "Well, I guess it could be _A Flash of Shadow_. Fully translated, it would mean _The Ship Named A Flash of Shadow_."

"_Shadow Flash_." Prowl murmured.

Bluestreak nodded. "It could mean that too. The names in this language are difficult to translate because they could mean so many things. Translated in a literal sense, _Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak_ would mean "The-Quick/Flash-Movement-of-One-Hidden-in-or-Related-to-the-Shadows. Shortening it becomes difficult and I'm not that good at translating names. Other words I'm pretty okay at, I think, but names aren't my strong point." Something dawned on him and the gunner looked mildly scandalized. "I'm _sorry!_ I didn't introduce you guys."

Jumper gave a low _yahnkyank_ sound in amusement. "Ah. That is the Kanxelarngya we knew once."

Optimus frowned. "Let's go inside. It is much too open out here."

Firebird shifted, glancing at Bluestreak. The gunner, chatting in their language, grabbed both wrists and led them in. "What language is that?" Ratchet asked, walking beside the two mechs.

"The language of Kalin," Firebird said simply.

Jumper growled, a low, dangerous sound at the mention of Kalin. Bluestreak looked from mech to mech, startled. "There is no need of secrets, Kanxelarngya." He said in an angry voice. The smile that had been stretched across his face had disappeared. "Kalin is no more."

Prowl, who had been walking on the other side caught Bluestreak as he stumbled backwards. "Bluestreak, are you all right?"

The gunner didn't answer, instead choosing to speak in the language of Kalin, voice sharp.

Firebird and Jumper's expression turned stormy. Firebird told Bluestreak something and the gunner's door-wings drooped lower than anyone had ever seen them. The two strange mechs exchanged sad glances. "He is sad." Jumper said simply.

"We have a job," Firebird said. "Talk is for later."

Optimus turned, gesturing to the open conference room. "I think Bluestreak needs to be with us," he said reluctantly. "We may need a translator."

Prowl looked down at the gunner. "Will you be all right?"

At last the youngest of the group nodded. "Yeah. I'll be fine." He gave a shaky smile. "Let's go."

* * *

"We received a transmission from Ultra Magnus roughly one ship-day ago, requesting the Captain's participation in a job." Bluestreak said, translating directly what Firebird said. The mech held up a data-cube. "This contains the exact message as recorded by _Idvikan_ _Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak_, our ship. The Captain sent us ahead to settle a few…ah…logistical issues that you might have."

"We were curious about payment." Prowl said. "Bounty hunters and mercenaries cost a lot of money, something we don't have a lot of."

Jumper gave a feral grin. "We don't like Decepticons." He said as Bluestreak translated. "Normally the Captain charges three or four times what we charge Ultra Magnus for our hunts, but since we're hunting Decepticons rather than neutrals or other species, we charge only the energy we need to continue the hunt."

Firebird drummed his fingers in the table. He was a nervous creature, they had quickly learned. "The Captain hates Seekers and fliers more than Decepticons." He added.

"That's good," Ratchet said gruffly. "We've been having a problem with a Decepticon flier."

Jumper glanced at the picture of the Decepticon in question and turned away, uninterestedly. Firebird frowned at it, leaning closer. The grey mech murmured something to Firebird who shrugged and replied in kind. Bluestreak didn't translate that.

Then Jumper grinned. "Sounds like fun."

* * *

"_I did not know,"_ Bluestreak whispered, staring into his cube of Energon as if wishing he could drown his sorrows in it.

Firebird made a sympathetic sound and hooked his taloned hands over his _baenvarna_'s wrist. _"How could you have known when you were not with us and had no contact with Kalin?"_

"_So…everyone…?"_

"_They are all dead save for a few that the Captain managed to save._" Jumper said bitterly. _"And even then it was close: we all ended up kidnapping them so that they would leave. Because of that, Bird-of-Fire and I are no longer able to claim that we are of Kalin."_

Bluestreak looked distraught. _"They did that?"_

Jumper shook his head. _"It does not matter anymore. Kalin does not exist. The survivors were taken to a nearby planet similar to Kalin. Even if the Elders on the ship bade us to never return to the Pack, we would not leave. We have already found another Pack. Just as you have."_

"Blue?" the gunner looked at Jazz, startled. "You all right?"

Bluestreak sniffed. "They're telling me about how Kalin fell. They say that there's only a few survivors left and that they were exiled because they tried to save the others."

Prowl frowned. "Why?"

"They didn't believe them when they were told that the planet was being attacked," he said miserably. "No one attacked Kalin because they had no contact with any other races other than Russet and Flitter. They simply had no reason to believe Jumper and Firebird because they were already outcasts for befriending Russet and Flitter. They said that the only way they could save people was to kidnap them and throw them bodily on the ship. The Elders blamed them for the attack and exiled them."

"_You remember what One-Who-Is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves told you? About how we must not tell anyone about the existence of Kalin?"_ Firebird asked quietly. _"Someone had found Kalin despite all our work to hide its existence. One-Who-Is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves hunted down people who knew of its existence and killed them, hoping to keep them from spreading the word. But she could not patrol the entire planet alone."_

Jumper made a low, angry sound. _"The fugitives we caught? They were prisoners of war, sent to live out their lives on an 'abandoned' world. Somehow, according to One-Who-Is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves, they managed to contact the rest of their brethren and bring them to Kalin. That is why she was always so worried when we hunted the fugitives."_

"_They were the Ones-Who-Were-Great-Deceivers. They killed the Packs one by one and by the time that One-Who-Is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves found out, they had taken over a quarter of the planet."_ Firebird said in a low voice. _"We all worked to stop them, but there were too many. So we started evacuation plans. We managed to save five and forty before the Ones-Who-Were-Great-Deceivers realized what we were doing and began to simply kill anyone they came across."_

"_We managed to rescue the Winded Valley Pack,"_ Jumper said, as if sensing the question before it came. _"The casualties were minimal."_

"What're they saying, Blue?" Jazz asked quietly.

"_Bluestreak,"_ Firebird said gently when the gunner couldn't speak. _"Translate directly what I am saying. All right?"_

Brokenly, Bluestreak nodded and turned to the two other mechs at the table. Firebird began to speak. "Kalin was a semi-organic planet. Russet had told us to keep its existence a secret because she was worried that the opposing faction on her planet, what you call Cybertron, would hear of it and invade it. However, they had heard of it and were slowly invading it. They inadvertently destroyed the planet and everyone on it except for forty-five survivors."

"How could they destroy an entire planet in such a short amount of time?" Prowl asked.

It was Jumper who answered. "There was a fault line that ran all the way across the planet. A chasm so deep that it was called the Pit of Darkness. Legend told us that it traveled all the way to the center of our world, and it proved to be true. When the…" Bluestreak paused in translating. "Great Deceivers. Deception…Decepticons! The Decepticons were on Kalin!"

Jumper paused and looked at him. He murmured something softly to the gunner, and suddenly the saboteur and tactician felt awkward and out of place, as if intruding on a moment that was best left alone. But Bluestreak took a deep, albeit shaky breath and nodded.

"If enough explosives or explosive material was thrown into these chasms," Bluestreak paused to shudder here. "Theory had it the planet would react in a way that would destroy everything." Jumper hesitated for a long moment. "My…my mate was a geologist that was stationed at the rift. She was the one that warned us that the Decepticons were storing shuttles filled with explosives, weapons, and fuel down in the chasm, thinking it was safe."

Firebird glanced at the other, who they had learned was his brother. "Jumper's mate…she was killed. As were their two pups."

"So this fault was like the San Andreas on steroids?" Jazz asked.

Prowl gave him a pointed glare. "You mentioned Russet. Is she all right?"

The two Kalinmas were silent for a while, tilting their head to the side as if they didn't understand the question. When Bluestreak opened his mouth to translate, Firebird waved him off. Jumper's optics brightened suddenly and he smiled. "The Captain is here." He got to his feet excitedly, dark fur whispering as he moved. "We go?"

The Autobots in turn looked surprised, but Prowl hid it, sending a comm. call to the officers as Jazz assured the Kalinmas that they would be on their way. Firebird's fiery plumage shifted and winked as he stood beside his larger brother, taloned hands opening and closing anxiously.

Firebird shook his head suddenly. "The Captain is coming _here_." He sounded surprised as the door opened and in walked one of the largest, most terrifying mechs they had ever seen.

He was head and shoulders taller than Prime with broad shoulders and a dangerous golden gaze. Dark red armor, darker than Ironhide's, was accented by the orange tiles around him, as were the dark grey and bronze-gold armor fittings that adorned his massive body. In his hand he held a large sack, its contents clinking in a low but awful racket.

The Autobots stumbled backwards as a wave of fear and intimidating force, almost tangible, washed over them as if heralding this massive mech's presence. "Can I help you?"

The mech straightened fully, lowering the ominous sack as he gazed down at them, a feral glint in his emotionless optics. "I believe the question is," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "Can _I_ help _you_?"

If any of the three Autobots in the room had thought of what a man-eating tiger would sound like if it talked, they would have concluded that this mech would sound just like it. Jumper grinned broadly and spoke to him quickly while his brother and the mech listened with rapt attention.

"Blue?" Jazz asked, looking at the gunner who shook his head.

"They're not speaking Kalin," he replied. "I don't know _what_ they're speaking."

The mech looked back at them almost thoughtfully. "They say that you've been very helpful." He grunted, moving away from the door with the steely grace of a massive predator. "And that you should've contacted your command staff by now. When can we expect them so I know when I can leave?"

"They're in a conference room across the hall," Prowl managed, eyeing the size of the mech and the thickness of his dark armor. "Who are you, may I ask?"

A fanged grin. "Captain Peril of _Cruiser_ _Shadow Flash_. Hired by Cybertron Autobot Commander Ultra Magnus to come down to Earth and have a nice little chat with the Autobots on Earth about your pest problem."

The Autobots were floored for a long moment, staring up at the mech before they got over it. "Yeah, sure. This way." Jazz managed, walking carefully past the mech and practically darting out the room to key in the access code for the next door.

With a low, predatory chuckle, Peril lifted his ominous sack and followed. His armor gave him the appearance of a dark shadow against the garishly bright orange tile as he stalked across the hall after Jazz. The surprise of seeing such a fearsome mech enter the room was almost predictable: mechs leapt to their feet, blasters dragged out of subspace to be pointed at the newcomer.

The mech gave another dangerously fanged grin. "Let me introduce myself," he purred, voice full of something bordering on the edge of malice but not quite there yet. It was a sound that one would expect from a panther about to pounce on his wounded prey. "Again."

"Russ!" Ratchet whispered and the mech gave no sign that he heard.

"I am Captain Peril of _Cruiser Shadow Flash_." He continued as if he had not been interrupted.

At once there was a lot of shuffling, more than one gun shoved back into subspace. Optimus didn't seem to know what to say to the large mech standing in the doorway. "Ah…" he tried first then forced himself to take a deep breath. "Welcome to Earth, Captain." He managed at last.

Ironhide and Wheeljack caught Ratchet's wrists as he tried to move toward the mech. _:I don't think that's Russet, Ratch.:_ Wheeljack said quietly.

Firebird's sharp optics zeroed in on them curiously, noticing the small scuffle. If Peril noticed, he gave no sign. _:I've gotta agree wit' 'Jack, Ratch.:_ Ironhide agreed. _:Somethin's not right, y'know?:_ Near the door, Jazz and Prowl seemed to have come to the same conclusions.

Peril gave another feral grin and the medic realized that his friends were right: this most definitely _wasn't_ Russet. But what were the odds that there was another femme that looked _exactly_ like his friend – that wasn't her twin – out there? What were the chances that there was a mech that looked exactly like her?

"Thank you," he purred, moving to the edge of the table as everyone hurried to sit down. Firebird and Jumper traded amused glances, not bothering to hide them.

"May I ask what you have in the bag?" Red Alert asked, managing to keep the waver from his voice. He sat the closest to the mercenary-mech, getting a very good view of the spines on his hips and shoulders and the curved blades on his forearms.

"My resume." Peril said in that deadly way of his, lifting the sack and dropping it on the table. The bag opened with the motion, causing large circular pieces of metal to tumble out.

Ratchet was on his feet in a second, Jack a beat after. If they were human, they would've blanched, but as it were, they stumbled backwards in shock. Ironhide gaped at it, and Optimus turned to this CMO and Chief Engineer. "Ratchet?" he asked slowly.

Peril lifted one and spun it in his claws almost teasingly at ease. "They're spark chambers." He said, optics glinting. "Recent jobs, not the ones I used to do." He wrinkled his nose. "Had more fun back then."

For a long moment the command staff was silent, optics staring down at the piles of spark chambers. One by one they counted, lips forming the numbers silently as they fought hard – and lost badly – to deny the sight before them.

"Who…"

"Hired me?" Peril asked with dark ease. "Decepticons mostly. They usually want their targets dead. On occasion they'll have me bring them back alive." He wrinkled his nose again. "You don't have to worry. I don't hunt no stinkin' Autobots. Only deserters and major political leaders."

"That's so much better." Ratchet snapped without thinking.

To their surprise, Peril threw his head back and laughed. Surreptitiously Ironhide raised a finger and rotated it on the side of his head. Optimus grimaced behind his mask and nodded slightly, barely a twitch of his head. "I suppose it is not," the mercenary agreed, optics alight with dark humor. "But it apparently makes you much more at ease for you're much more comfortable. Comfortable enough to insinuate that I am crazy." Ironhide shrank beneath his glare, feeling small beneath the gaze of this enormous mech. "But of course, in your place, I would that that I was crazy too."

"What sort of work did you do for Magnus?" Jazz asked, edging around the large mech. "An' how'd you get t' workin' wit' the Autobots if you're working wit' th' 'Cons?"

Peril gave a sharp, dangerous grin. "I got bored of killing," he said almost wistfully. "Found a contingent of Autobots one day with severe injuries, took 'em back t' their HQ. Ultra Magnus hired me t' be a captain for a while, then decided that Firebird and Jumper shouldn't be wasted and had us hunting soon enough."

"Rrules werre no killls." Jumper piped up. Though he seemed to have a much more difficult time speaking than his brother or Peril, his meaning was clear. Firebird just nodded.

The captain spun the spark chamber in his clawed hand, and Ratchet couldn't help but focus his optics on a thin, nearly invisible scar that ran down the inside of Peril's left optic and across the plane of his cheek before curving along the line of his jaw. "We got paid double if we could bring back a Decepticon alive to the base. Of course, it couldn't be just any 'Con: they had to be worth the effort to detain and question."

"Of course," Prime nodded awkwardly. Peril grinned.

"Ultra Magnus just sent us down here," he pointed out. "Gave us data on the local languages and coordinates of where to find you, but not exactly what we're supposed to do." He motioned to the avian mech behind him. "Firebird told me that you are having trouble with a Decepticon flier, but judging by your looks, you don't want me to kill her."

"Perhaps we can set up something similar to what you've done with Ultra Magnus," Optimus suggested.

Peril inclined his head. "That would be nice. However," they shivered, tensely waiting for him to continue. "I would like to know the names of my employers before I really do anything."

The Autobots looked sheepish and Jumper made the _yahnkyahnk_ sound of his laughter. Nor did the _krrrkrrr_ sound his brother made reassure the gathered command staff.

* * *

**The language of Kalin is beginning to sound a lot like Filippino. The bus I used to catch to school used to have a lot of Filippinos (I don't mean to be racist!) so I kind of know what it sounds like. I used to like to listen to them talk in Tagalish (a mixture of Tagalog and English). You'd hear "_Tagalog-Tagalog-Tagalog_-All right._ Tagalog-Tagalog_. No, I don't-_Tagalog_."**

**Anyway:**

**_-Zilka : _as mentioned before, it's the honorific for a Kalin Elder. In Kalin culture, if someone from another Pack (like Jumper) called an Elder from another Pack (like Optimus) _-Zilka_, it would be like calling another country's king/monarch "Your Majesty." You're not professing your loyalty; rather, it's more like you're recognizing them as a leader-figure.**

**_Karzenmalank_ : it's an honorific for the Captain, usually the Captain of a sea-faring vessel on Kalin. However, as the only star-faring vessel the Kalinmas knew of was Russet's, they didn't develop any other word for it.**

**_Idvikan_ : the Kalin word for ship or cruiser. As with _Karzenmalank_, it was originally intended for sleek, small-sized vessels of the sea-faring variety.**

**_Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak_ : The name of a ship. Fully, it would be _Idvikan Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak_. As Bluestreak says, translated literally it would mean _The Small Cruiser Named The-Quick/Flashy-Movement-of-One-Hidden-in-or-Related-to-the-Shadows). _Translated into "normal" speech, it would just be _Shadow Flash, _the name of the ship.**

**Narzenim's race doesn't live _quite_ as long as Cybertronians, but they _do_ live a whole lot longer than humans.**


	22. Do What You Do

_**DO WHAT YOU DO**_

Ratchet grumbled as he stared blankly into the inky darkness, casting a glance at the avian mech beside him. "Safe." He said, optics sharp but not angry.

"I don't like it." The medic said, not even able to see the glow of Jumper's optics somewhere in the hidden cave.

"You don't have to," Trailbreaker muttered, shaking as a few more rocks cascaded on the force field he held over them.

It didn't take long for Jumper and Firebird to get integrated into the _Ark_ crew. Hound and Trailbreaker didn't care much for them due to the pelts they wore on their armor, but no one could resist the honest amusement of Jumper and the perpetual smile he wore. Likewise, Firebird had gotten a few speculative glances as the mechs decided whether or not he was a femme though the mech was useful in working in the labs. He'd even managed to yank Wheeljack out of the way of a few blasts.

But the biggest problem had been with Peril, who was as strong as and more ornery than the Dinobots. To Prime's and the crew's relief, he mostly stayed away from the _Ark_ though letting his crew members the freedom to wander around the base and the area around it.

It was Ratchet that led to this predicament: he had decided to corner Peril outside the base and get him to talk because there was just something really strange about him. Trailbreaker, Prowl, Wheeljack, Jumper, and Firebird had followed (though not all at the same time) to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. Ratchet was of the personal opinion that Peril had called his crew to him, and one of the two (he suspected Firebird, the one that seemed to be the one more willing to talk to the command staff) had notified Prowl and Trailbreaker. Wheeljack had been with him and had desperately tried to stop him, but to no avail.

He had cornered Peril and got the verbal ass-whupping of his life.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

Peril had turned in that steely cold way of his, optics flashing in ire. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," the medic had snarled. "Who the _hell_ do you think you are? Barging in here with a bag full of spark chambers and pretending that you don't know us? You frakking _raised_ Blue and you ignore him as if you'd never met him."

He snarled. "Exactly. I don't know _any_ of you."

"Don't give me that crap." He snapped. "I'm your frakking _bondmate_ and you even ignore _me_."

Suddenly his throat was held in a vice-like grip and he was slammed into the mountainside with enough force to force air from his intakes. "My bondmate is dead," Peril snarled as Wheeljack raced over. "And yet somehow I feel a connection that makes me so _angry_. All I want to do is kill people, kill those mechs with their purple insignias as if that would make all my pain go away." He snarled and invaded Ratchet's personal space as Jumper and Firebird arrived, crouching near the edge of the cliff face. "My gaze is broken, _medic_. I can't see straight anymore."

The medic reached through his bond and showed his memory of Russet's scar along his jaw. The one he had been staring at when they first met. "You aren't who you say you are." Peril recoiled as if he had been hit, shaking his – _her_ – head furiously as if his – her – processors had been rattled. _'You are my bondmate. You are Russet.'_

Jumper's low growl startled the medic enough to stop his "attack" on the femme. With a snarl, Peril swung her arm and backhanded him hard enough to send him flying into Wheeljack. "I am Peril." He snarled, straightening. "I know nothing of this Russet you're talking about. Your bondmate was _weak_. I am not." Turning, he leapt off the cliff and disappeared.

Firebird stared down after his captain before turning his optics on Ratchet thoughtfully. As ever, he didn't voice his thoughts. As Prowl and Trailbreaker raced over, Jumper's growling increased. Medic and engineer looked over at him to find that his optics were scanning the skies.

Which had led to their predicament: Seekers had come almost out of nowhere, shooting the mountainside and causing a massive landslide. Trailbreaker had arrived on time to create a force field around the group of mechs, one that was quickly being covered by rock.

When the force field was completely covered, Trailbreaker shivered. "I can't hold this for much longer." He warned.

Firebird frowned while Jumper knelt down, placing his audio receptor to the ground. He looked surprised and chattered something to his brother in excitement before digging his claws into the packed earth and digging.

"What are you doing?" Ratchet hissed. "You're making more of a mess."

"Caave." Firebird explained simply. "Under." He pointed to the ground for emphasis as Jumper continued to dig. After a few moments, he had made a sizeable hole into the dark, inky abyss large enough for all of them to fit one by one.

Jumper poked his head in and they could vaguely hear the rushing of water below. "Water." He said simply, voice echoing. "Not tooo deeepp." He pulled his shoulders out and hopped in. After a second or so of falling, they heard a soft splash far below.

Firebird looked up. "Go one by one." He said. In the time he'd spent with Wheeljack in the labs, his English had improved. "Jumper will catch you."

Which was how Ratchet was in this predicament, staring into the abyss and about to take a leap of faith. Literally. Getting tired of watching Ratchet shift nervously near the edge, Firebird shoved him and with a cry he tumbled into the hole. After a frightening second of weightlessness he was caught by strong, furred hands and set gently on the side. In the darkness, his eyes cast a blue glow on everything. Jumper was nearly invisible in the darkness, the only thing visible being his cerulean spots along his spine and abdomen. Even his optics didn't glow in the dark of the cave.

One by one the mechs jumped in and Ratchet, after switching his optics to infrared, watched as Jumper caught them effortlessly. Firebird had been the most spectacular, as he didn't need his brother to catch him; the moment he began to fall, the wing-struts on his back spread and he glided gently down into the ankle-high water, folding them neatly on his back. Like his brother, only parts of his armor glimmered in the light cast by Autobot optics, his own blue ones not glowing as Jumper's had.

Trailbreaker had been last, and once he was in, the force field collapsed and rocks pounded on their entrance to the cave, causing them to scramble away as tons and tons of rock broke through. At last the entrance was blocked and they were trapped.

The animal-like mechs weren't bothered in the least, murmuring to each other in their quiet language while Trailbreaker switched on his infrared. Jumper turned to Prowl. "Scout." He said and to their surprise, transformed. In moments, a grey and blue cyberwolf stood in the underground stream, ears perked forward. With an amused _yahnk_, he bounded off to their right, disappearing quickly in the gloom. The only sound he made was the low splashes as his webbed feet hit the ground, but soon that too disappeared.

"Come on." Firebird said, motioning for them to follow Jumper along, sloughing through the water. If he showed any signs of discomfort, he didn't show it, even though his feathers were raised slightly.

"Where are we?" Wheeljack asked and the avian mech whirled around.

"Hush." He said rather sharply, so much so that they all had to stop in surprise, as he was never particularly rude. "Not time to talk. Must be very quiet."

The Autobots exchanged glances. _:He obviously knows something we don't.:_ Prowl said at last, obeying the avian mech's curt order.

_:Really, what gave you _that_ idea?:_ Ratchet grumbled back. _:So. Kid. What's going on?:_

Firebird gave him such a dark look that the medic had to pause. Wheeljack gave a low chuckle, vocal indicators flashing dimly in the darkness. The avian mech gave a low _grree_ sound that the engineer interpreted hastily as the sound he made when he was irritated. He made no move to explain, instead stalking off.

_:I don't know about you guys, but I have a feeling that we really should keep following him.:_ Trailbreaker said, shifting as the gloom began to swallow the red and orange mech.

Wheeljack sloshed after the avian mech, leaving the rest of the Autobots to decide what to do on their own. At last they gave up, following the sound of Wheeljack's awkward footsteps until they caught up to the pair.

_:What is this place?:_ Trailbreaker asked, looking around at the surprisingly clean swath cut through the mountain, as if a giant worm had tunneled through the dark rock.

_:Firebird says that they're lava tubes.:_ Wheeljack supplied when their shorter guide paused slightly, looking around. _:They're tunnels where lava is excreted during a volcanic eruption.:_

Prowl's brow ridge rose while Trailbreaker stared in awe at the dark tubes around them. _:How did he tell you that?:_

The engineer glanced back. _:Kalinma internal comm. devices are vastly different than ours. While ours deal with individual words, theirs deal with ideas and pictures. You don't "hear" them; you "see" them.:_

Firebird glanced back at them and motioned for them to stop. _:Wheeljack, why don't their optics glow?:_ Prowl asked.

There was a pause as the engineer consulted their avian guide. _:Firebird says that their optics work along the same lines as an Earth cat's eyes. They don't glow in the dark but they're able to see vastly better than we are, even if they don't have infrared settings. He says that they don't have "lights" in their eyes.:_ he added.

Water sloshed nearby and Jumper came back, panting merrily. He looked at his brother who nodded and turned to Wheeljack.

_:There are Decepticons in the tunnels,:_ the engineer said grimly. _:Jumper told Firebird that the only way out of this tube was through them and they're trying to burrow through the rock into the _Ark_.:_

Trailbreaker put his hand against the wall. _:It would be a shame to ruin this in a fight.:_ he said wistfully.

_:Wheeljack,:_ the engineer looked at Prowl. _:Do they know how many?:_

The named mech shrugged. _:They haven't told me, but they know.:_ he replied. He glanced at Firebird who was speaking to Jumper. Or so they guessed, anyway. It was hard to tell. At last, Firebird stood and motioned for them to follow, creeping along in the stream. They passed a bend in the tube where the water was knee-high for the other Autobots (Jumper swam through it and Firebird waded through it with some difficulty, as it reached almost to his hips and Wheeljack had to steady him) and soon the water receded, allowing them to walk silently on rocky ground. As the tunnels began to grow lighter and lighter, they began to hear the noise of the Decepticons in the tunnel.

Jumper shook himself off as they paused, spraying water across the walls and the unfortunate Autobots who were there. His brother crouched nearby, drawing something in the sand. When Prowl tried to talk to them, the avian mech waved him off with a taloned hand.

_:Firebird says that we're to run, and that the _Ark_ is roughly four miles to the east.:_ Wheeljack said. He was looking thoughtfully at the brothers who seemed to be conferring with each other once more. _:He also says that he and Jumper will distract the 'Cons.:_

Prowl frowned. _:Two against at least three Seekers and two cassettes? Those don't seem like very good odds.:_

Jumper looked up and gave a fanged grin. Then he turned around and shook himself again. Firebird looked up, then nodded at Wheeljack. Turning with his brother, he transformed, wings swinging forward as he folded nearly in half, a nearly five-foot tall turbohawk. He nodded to his brother almost in confirmation and with a low _chirr_, leapt into the air. He circled the Autobots once then flew off toward the brighter area where the Decepticons were. After a beat, Jumper leapt forward, giving off a horrible cry like the sound of a train rushing by.

When the Autobots, spurred into action by the roar of a cyberwolf, raced around the corner, they found that someone – they suspected Firebird, for the turbohawk-mech was crouched behind a boulder, a handful of throwing blades around him. As they watched, he snatched them up one by one and threw them with deadly accuracy. Two had already frozen Rumble's piledrivers painfully, and there were three embedded in the wings of the various Seekers. Glancing at the Autobots, he nodded once, spinning to flick one into a sensitive knee.

Jumper howled, a ringing cry that echoed in the confines of the lava tube. The cyberwolf was crouched behind another boulder, a bladed staff in one clawed hand. He winked companionably at the startled Autobots before howling again.

"Autocreeps!" Frenzy sneered, yanking the energon blades out of his brother's arms.

The Seekers had already taken defensive positions. Firebird paused, spinning a glittering dagger in one taloned hand. The bright mech called something back to the cassette and while none understood what it was (except, perhaps, for Jumper), they could tell that it was more of an insult than a compliment.

"Go." Jumper said in a low voice. "One by one. You'll know when."

And then both leapt forward, Firebird fluffing out his wings to look bigger and more intimidating, though with the blades in his clawed hands it wasn't needed much. Jumper spun his staff, knocking first one, then the other cassette into the wall, stunned. Firebird danced around the Seekers, and to their utmost surprise, exploded with great flashes of fire along his feathered armor.

The sudden movement managed to startle the Seekers and the Autobots whose weapons were drawn, aimed them, opening fire. Then, seeing their cue, first Trailbreaker then Ratchet ran out the open area, leaving the others as they tried to contact the rest of the Autobots, something they couldn't do while smothered in the obsidian caves.

Wheeljack was nearly there when Dirge fell between him and freedom, aiming his blaster at the first thing that moved. And that happened to be Wheeljack.

A cry, like the lonely, keening howl of an Earth wolf echoed through the air. Flames danced in his vision as he fell backwards, and there was an explosion of heat and sound, purple and gold and red lights, burning hot against his chest and he swore that he must've been dead. A weight splattered against him as he fell on his back, but it was nothing that he couldn't carry on his own. In fact, it felt like a big bag of feathers. A big bag of _wet_ feathers.

Jumper was suddenly there, and Dirge's gun was sliced with the bladed staff as the grey Kalinma spun in a grey and blue dervish. Ratchet seemed to materialize, grabbing the bag of feathers from 'Jack's chest and dashing back out. Trailbreaker heaved 'Jack to his feet and practically dragged him after the medic who had laid the "bag" out in the sun near the road and was inspecting the purple wetness that seeped from a giant rip.

It took another glance for Wheeljack to realize that it wasn't a bag of feathers with a giant rip: it was Firebird in his turbohawk form, lying limp on his back with a great tear in his chest.

"He jumped," he whispered.

"How'd he get there so fast?" Prowl asked, appearing beside them. He and Jumper had been the last out of the lava tubes. "He was across the cave."

"He transformed," Ratchet said grimly. "As a turbohawk, his legs were stronger and were able to push off better." He gestured to the haphazardly folded wings. They were nearly fifteen feet across from wingtip to wingtip. "These helped, too."

Wheeljack eyed the mess of purple fluid. "Will he be all right?"

The medic grunted. "We gotta get him back to the _Ark._"

Prowl nodded in confirmation. "Fall back." He called. They assumed it was more for Jumper than the Autobots. "Head to the _Ark_."

The cyberwolf gave no sign that he heard, twisting deftly out of Thundercracker's reach. His jaws snapped at the thinner arms of Frenzy, darting backwards in a dangerous game of tag.

The tactician was about to call out again when Trailbreaker grabbed his shoulder. Wheeljack carefully loaded the stasis-locked body of Firebird into Ratchet's back before transforming as well. With an impatient rev of his engine, they both raced off, kicking up dirt in their wake. "I think he's got something planned. We gotta get going."

With a reluctant glance and a parting shot at Ramjet who swore and spun away, Prowl transformed and raced after his comrades. As he screeched around the corner, a massive dark red shape thundered toward him and it took a moment to recognize it as a freakishly huge Pit-Dragon, had held high as it charged. The tactician's attention shifted as Thrust swooped low over him, strafing him; he dodged to the side, out of the line of fire.

When his attention spun back to the Pit-Dragon, he found that it was just in front of him in all its snarling glory. But it didn't attack: it leapt against the cliff wall to its right and using that as leverage, lunge-jumped at Thrust, catching one wing in its fang-lined jaws. Gravity dragged the beast down with its screaming burden and the creature jerked its neck, slamming Thrust into the rock wall hard.

As Prowl turned another corner, the great and terrifying sound of a full-grown Pit-Dragon roar – a full-grown and very _angry _Pit-Dragon - echoed after him.

* * *

"Will he be all right?"

A low grunt and a breathy snort. "He'll be fine." A gruff voice said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." The second voice said shortly, as if rather unhappy.

"He _did_ hit his head pretty hard…" a third voice said, sounding uneasy.

"But it was _you_ who snuck up on him like that." The first voice said.

There was a low snort, and he was reminded of an Earth bull about to charge. "He will be fine." The gruff voice snarled, a bestial undertone threaded through his voice.

"And whose bright idea was to visit him, hmm?" the third voice griped, ignoring the second voice.

At last, the second, gruff, voice seemed to get irritated with the other two. "Get. Out."

"Uh, guys, I think we should do as he says." A fourth voice said and there was a low scuffle.

The third voice snorted. "Make me."

A low growl, not unlike an angry tiger, echoed around them. "You have one more chance." The second voice said. "Leave, or so help me I will pin you to the wall for the Seekers' target practice."

Another scuffle and the room was blissfully silent as he finally came to functionality. He onlined his optics and was surprised to recognize the ceiling of his own med-bay. Carefully he sat up, wincing as his stiff body protested and he registered a weight across his knees.

The growl had died when the scuffle did, but he was aware of another presence in the room. Turning, he nearly fell off of the berth when he found Peril inspecting the open cavity of Firebird's chest. The weight on his knees proved to be Jumper stretched across in his cyberwolf form. Feeling him move, the smaller mech shifted, freeing his legs.

"You were out for an Earth day." Peril said without looking up. "I thought I should let you get your rest." There were purple-splattered parts and well-worn tools spread out on the berth around Firebird. "One of your friends managed to sneak up on you, Primus only knows why. You startled and slipped in spilled fluids and hit your helm on one of your berths."

Ratchet winced. "That explains why my head hurts. But how…?"

"You had minor damage." Peril said almost gently. "I fixed you up and let you recharge while I tended to Firebird."

The medic stood carefully and took a few steps to the berth nearby. "Will he be all right?"

Peril grunted. "He'll live." He said brusquely. "It'll take me some time to fix his transformation cog and get a new patch for his chest, but he should be fine. A few Earth days out of combat and transforming if I keep working without rest."

"I'll help if I can," Ratchet said quietly as Wheeljack walked in.

The mercenary looked up at both of them and shook his head. "You don't know anything about Kalinma anatomy." He said almost gently. "Their transformation cogs are different than ours."

"You're not a Kalinma?" Wheeljack asked and golden optics narrowed.

"No."

"Oh." The engineer blinked. "When will he-?"

"In a moment. I'm just checking to make sure I fixed everything life-threatening." Was the idle reply as the mercenary looked back down at the mess of purple fluid and wet feathers. Apparently satisfied, he wiped fluid from the now-featherless chest, welding it shut when he was done. Only a thin stripe of a scar was left and he inspected his work critically before reactivating his comrade.

Jumper lifted his head, giving a low whimper as Peril carefully righted the avian mech. The turbohawk's gold-yellow beak was slightly open as it panted, sky-blue eyes bright as its chest fluttered. A small flask of thin low-grade energon appeared in his hand and he put the end near the curved beak, pouring a thin stream gently into the mouth.

Firebird gave a low _charrg_ and tilted his head back eagerly, crest flopping weakly as he drank the mixture. His brother said something in Kalin and Peril grunted in reply. "Sorry, Firebird," he said in English this time as the turbohawk finished the flask. "You're gonna need a babysitter while I fix your transformation cog."

"I'll watch him." Wheeljack said immediately. Peril glanced at him, then at his comrade.

"If he agrees and you don't mind." The mercenary said at last. Firebird chattered something to him and he nodded. "He agrees." A data-pad appeared in his palm which he handed to the engineer. "I'll give you his energon every morning. These are the instructions for his care. Make sure he doesn't go flying, now." The engineer nodded and subspaced the 'pad. "Hold out your hands." Wheeljack did, and carefully Peril rearranged them, wrapping them in rags he produced from subspace before placing Firebird gently in the cradle he had created to protect the white armor from the taloned claws of his comrade.

Peril and Ratchet watched silently as the engineer walked out with the turbohawk. Jumper whimpered and idly the mercenary patted his head. "He's worried that Jack will blow him up." He explained as the cyberwolf gave another _yamph_ before hopping off the berth and walking out the door.

The medic winced. "Well…"

The other mech snorted. "Firebird will be fine." He said firmly, though his voice was of a softer timbre than when he usually spoke to the medic. "He's pretty much fireproof." A wry smile appeared on the grey face. "Of course, that could be because he's a fire bird."

Ratchet was startled enough to chuckle with the mercenary. "Yeah, but is he Wheeljack-proof?"

"We'll see. Now give me a rag or something so I can clean up these floors and get out of your way."

Immediately Ratchet was suspicious. "Out of my way?" he echoed as he passed the requested rags to the clawed mercenary.

Peril snorted as he knelt, mopping up the purple fluids. "I don't live by illusion. You're an Autobot, I'm not. As it is, I'm probably giving your Security Director CPU failure by my very presence in your med-bay without an armed guard. _Siren_ would've, anyway, and based on the data given to me, your SD was his student." He said, sounding vaguely amused. "And, furthermore, I doubt you'd want me here in the first place. A mercenary in a med-bay is just plain weird. And if that's not reason enough, I'd be willing to bet that you wouldn't want me here anyway, considering I had just recently insulted your bondmate."

Ratchet winced in reminder, but Peril wasn't finished.

"Sit down before you overexert yourself. Though your damage was minor, your self-repair systems need time and rest to work."

Ratchet drew himself up to his full (albeit unimpressive) height. "Let's get a few rules straight, here." He growled. Peril looked up idly at him, obviously not impressed with his attempt at being intimidating. "This is _my_ med-bay. _You_ don't order _me_ around."

At last Peril sighed and straightened, towering over the red and white medic. He wiped his hands on another rag and once they were clean, plucked him up and placed him on the berth. Once he was set down, Peril stepped forward, pinning him easily. "_I_ may not be a fully-trained medic," he said, voice dangerous though tinged with amusement. "But _you_ are injured and I know that you need rest. I don't care if this is your med-bay, but if you insist on pulling this alpha male shit with me, I will weld you to the berth until you're healed. Have I made myself clear?" Ratchet glared at him. "I did not say that you needed to go into a recharge cycle: I merely said that you needed to rest. Now rest or I _will_ follow through on my threat."

Ratchet growled but was nearly deafened by Peril's retaliatory snarl and sighed, giving up. Peril gave him a smirk before releasing him and returning to his cleaning as if nothing happened. _At taste of my own medicine indeed,_ he thought ruefully to himself as he watched the larger mech work.

Peril's next, sudden statement made him jump in surprise. "I'm sorry. For what I said earlier."

"About welding me to the berth?" Ratchet asked, confused.

The mercenary snorted. "No, I meant _that_. I meant about your bondmate. I shouldn't have said something like that."

They were quiet for a long while. "It's all right." Ratchet said quietly. It was surely an awkward moment, and for a while, nothing more was said. "I'll talk to Red Alert." He said at last, breaking the silence.

The blade-like spines along the mercenary's jerked slightly and golden optics met blue. "Hmm?"

"I'll talk to Red Alert." Ratchet repeated. "He's our SD. If Firebird's going to say with 'Jack, I don't think it's wise for you to leave until he's fully recovered."

A brow-ridge rose. "I see." A pause. "Thanks."

Somehow the tension between them lessened and it was easier for Ratchet to sit on the berth and watch Peril clean up the purple fluids.


	23. Wrap Your Arms Around My Waist

**WRAP YOUR ARMS AROUND MY WAIST**

_Wrap your arms around my waist,  
__Come honehone me  
__Oh, my goodness ku'u pu'uwai  
__Now that you are in my arms,  
__E 'u la la 'e ho  
__Darling, pili mau me 'oe  
_~_Pili Mau Me 'Oe_ written by: Kenneth Makuakane and Randol Ngum

* * *

"It'd be perfect!" Wheeljack insisted. "That way, if any of us gets too badly injured, we can transfer their spark into the containment box and repair the body without worrying about our patient dying."

Prime nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Another human gesture he'd picked up. He glanced at his command staff. Jazz and Blaster looked like they weren't paying much attention, and Prowl was frowning as he worked through simulations of what their chief engineer proposed. Ratchet didn't seem as eager as Wheeljack was about the proposed project, but he backed it though he seemed a bit skeptical. Red Alert was worried but said nothing as medical matters were out of his hands, but Peril, who seemed to be the bane of the security director's existence seemed almost bored, doodling on a data-pad he had pulled from subspace.

The mercenary sometimes sat in on staff meetings, much to Red Alert's discomfort. Prowl had invited him originally, because he deduced that the large mech would work better if he knew the goings-on of the _Ark_. However, it was rare that he showed up, and Prime guessed it was more because Ratchet and Wheeljack were talking about a new project than because he was interested in security matters.

Of course, in his defense, he never stayed around for that: he walked in for the basic reports and walked right back out, and it was very rare for him to stay around for so long. "What do you think, Peril?"

The mech looked up with bored optics and sighed. "About what?"

The Prime waved a hand toward Wheeljack. "About Wheeljack's idea about building a spark containment box."

"I don't think it'll be built for a while," the engineer protested, holding up his hands in an almost placating gesture. "We still need to find ways to alter the field to-"

"It's admirable." The mercenary rumbled, cutting off Wheeljack.

Prowl looked surprised. "That's all you have to say about it?"

Peril heaved a sigh and looked up. "It crossed every medic or engineer's mind at some point. However, the power source, containment field, and materials have always been under contention. Incorrectly calibrate the containment field and the spark would be in constant agony at _best_. Find the wrong materials and the spark would dissolve into the AllSpark. Eventually most gave up because it's very tedious and precise work."

"But it's been done before?" Ratchet pressed and the mercenary looked vaguely irritated.

"Yes." Peril sighed impatiently. "Forty-nine times, to be exact. Most of them were created before the war started and used for illegal purposes. Each one was subsequently destroyed and data erased."

Wheeljack sighed. "Well that's useless." Ratchet snapped as Peril grinned.

"I do try," he said, standing. "If that's all, I'll leave you all. This meeting is boring me." he paused at the door. "I'll leave you some data in your lab, Wheeljack. I'm sure it'll be helpful."

And with that he was gone, the door closing behind his massive bulk. "Y'know," Jazz said conversationally after a few moments. "I almost agree with Red in tha' Peril's a liability. Almost."

"He hasn't been to a battle yet," Blaster added. "Only Jumper has, and he handed the Seekers their skidplates for all he transformed into a land-beast."

Prime let his head fall into his hands. Of course, they couldn't make a formal report against Peril; he didn't take any energon from them, just as his crew didn't. Instead, they disappeared every few days and returned fully charged. He guessed that they went to their ship. Firebird helped Wheeljack in the labs despite Red Alert's worries, and Jumper roamed the base looking for things to do. He usually helped with some of the more menial things like repairing different things with Hoist and Grapple, steering away from security systems to preserve Red Alert's sanity. Peril himself stayed mostly in the med-bay with Ratchet. He never touched an Autobot, even moving so that there were at least two berths between him and another Autobot on Ratchet's table.

He even had points in his favor from Trailbreaker, Prowl, Wheeljack, and Ratchet for coming as backup when they had fallen into the lava tubes. And while he had expressed (however silently) a keen wish to protect some of the Autobots, he had not interfered with any of the goings-on in the base.

As talk in the meeting room drifted more toward security reports, Optimus steepled his fingers (another human gesture he had picked up) and listened with half an optic, fully trusting Prowl to handle Red Alert while he mulled over Peril.

* * *

When Wheeljack returned to his lab later that day, he found the promised data-pad on his desk, placed carefully on a set of prints. Frowning (he didn't remember having a set of prints on his desk…), he picked up the 'pad and read the note. It was from Peril. Confused, he put the 'pad down and opened the plans.

He found Peril later in the med-bay, giving Firebird a checkup. "You said they were all destroyed."

The mercenary didn't look up. "Did I? My bad. I drew out the plans for you. I also have some of the more…exotic materials you'll need on the _Shadow Flash_. I can bring them for you tomorrow." He murmured to Firebird, "Right wing, please."

As the avian mech gracefully extended the requested limb, he turned his head to Wheeljack, tilting it curiously to the side. His crest rose in what Wheeljack recognized as a gesture of greeting and he waved back at his friend. "All right," Peril said at last, stepping back. Firebird beat his wings as if to loosen them and folded them on his back. "You're free to go." The turbohawk leapt off the berth and circled Wheeljack, making a careful landing on his shoulder with the ease of long practice.

Excitedly talking to the turbohawk which was paying close attention to what he was saying, Wheeljack walked out the door. "Firebird will keep an optic on him." Peril assured Ratchet who still looked a bit dubious after the pair.

"If you say so," he said, shaking his head and returning to his instruction of First Aid and Swoop. "Later you'll have to tell me how you got your claws on a copy of the plans for a spark containment box if you claimed that they were all data was destroyed."

The mech gave a low chuckle. "Now, Ratchet, what fun would you have trying to figure me out if I showed you all my cards?" he began to gather his tools. "So what is the lesson for today?"

Ratchet shook his head and threw his hands up. "I give up already." He grumbled. "We're working on spark chambers today."

"Need a model?"

The medic sighed and glared at the mercenary who actually looked thoughtful. He wasn't wearing his predatory grin as he usually did when showcasing his "prizes." His brow rose and Peril shrugged. "My bondmate was a medic." He admitted. "Granted I didn't go out and hunt down spark chambers for him, but I remember how hard it was for him to process the lectures given to us. And the ones I have are relatively intact."

Ratchet peered at him. Most of the clues he gathered pointed to the fact that despite what Peril said, Russet and Peril were the same person. "I don't know if we'd feel comfortable handling a dead mech's spark chamber."

Behind his visor, First Aid's optics went wide. Swoop tilted his head to the side. "Why you Peril have spark chambers? Need only one." he added.

"I'm a mercenary and bounty hunter." When he saw that the Dinobot didn't understand, he elaborated further. "I am a hired soldier. If they have someone they want to hunt down for any reason, they find and hire me to find them."

Swoop blinked. "Oh. Like him Hound?"

Peril tilted his head to the side. "The tracker." Ratchet muttered.

"Ah," Peril said. "Sort of, but a lot of times I hunt down fugitives. People who break the rules. Sometimes, if the people that hire me want me to, I kill them."

"And you keep their spark chambers as trophies?" First Aid muttered. Because he was so used to being around the mercenary, he wasn't particularly afraid. Disgusted, yes. Afraid, no.

The mercenary in question gave a low, almost thoughtful rumble. "No. Usually I pay my respects to them properly. The spark chambers I have are from Decepticons. The ones I killed to avenge my mate." He stood. "Well, if I am to find all the materials Wheeljack needs and be back before tomorrow, I had best leave now." He pulled his sack out from subspace and placed it on the berth near his tools. "Judging by your looks, I doubt you will, but if you want to, they're here."

Ratchet waited until the door was closed behind Peril before snorting. "He's strange." He muttered. "But he _does_ know his stuff, I'll have to give him that."

"Me Swoop find him Peril interesting." The Dinobot piped up.

"I may not agree with his morals, but I have to agree with Swoop." First Aid said, shaking his head. "If it's all right, boss, I don't want to use one."

Their mentor snorted. "I don't blame you." The lesson continued on, but even the pacifist had to admit that Peril had been right. It was easier to use a model than to understand what Ratchet was telling them.

* * *

Some days, Prowl wondered why he even bothered.

This was quickly proving to be one of those days. Jazz was away on a mission and someone (he was very sure that it was a particular red hellion whose name started with _Side_ and ended with _swipe_) had managed to wrap him completely in duct tape like a grey-silver cocoon and tape him in a rather impressive rendition of an Earth butterfly's chrysalis. In heavy-duty rope. In the storage bay. Where it'll be a while before anyone finds him. Hanging upside-down.

Had he been able to, his door-wings would've twitched. But as it was, they were taped rather sturdily and thus unable to move.

So there, trapped in his temporary prison, he waited, hoping someone would come for him. It also didn't help that his comm. line had been damaged in the last battle and he had been on his way to Ratchet to repair it.

He didn't have an appointment with the cranky CMO, but that made everything worse: he wasn't expected anywhere. Prowl sighed, feeling the air from his vents rebounded back at him. The only parts of him that weren't covered were the tips of his chevron and his nose so he could cycle air.

"Hound had said that there were some particularly strange Earth insects, but I'm sure this wasn't quite what he had in mind." Oh Primus, it was Peril.

"Mmmph." He wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but it didn't quite get past the layers of duct tape around his lip components. For a moment he wondered if the mercenary would help him or stand around and watch his suffering. Of course, he rarely interacted with any Autobot other than the ones in the med-bay (mainly Ratchet, First Aid, and Swoop) and only barely talked with Wheeljack. While he was cordial to Prowl, the tactician wasn't sure if he was willing to go out of the way for him.

There was a grunt somewhere and the sound of something heavy being dragged over. "Whoever did this was pretty good, you have to admit."

'_You wouldn't think so if you were in my position.'_ Prowl tried to say, but all that came out was muffled nonsense. He snorted in irritation while the mercenary gave his low rumble-chuckle.

Careful hands – _clawed_ hands – pulled experimentally against the tape binding his face and Peril snorted, sounding amused. "It's stuck pretty good." he commented, sounding impressed.

Curse him.

Ignoring or not noticing his ire, Peril cut delicately through the tape over his optics and peeled it away in small sections until he was able to see the mercenary and the storage bay he was secluded in. Somehow the mercenary – no matter how rare it was for him to smile – was smirking. Nonetheless he cut away the sections over the tactician's mouth and peeled it away, allowing the other to speak.

"Since it would be rather difficult for me to cut away portions of the tape with you hanging like that, I'll have to cut you down." The mercenary said rather jovially, sounding for all the world as if he was about to laugh. "But first, though, I'll release your arms so you can hang on to me."

To Prowl's surprise, the mercenary was using a small blade to cut rather than his claws. When he expressed his confusion, Peril gave a wry grin. "I don't want adhesive on my claws." He said simply as he sliced through the duct tape near the tactician's arms. Soon Prowl was able to move his arms above his head though they were still mostly covered in duct tape. Peril moved his hands to his shoulders and leaned up higher, pulling a longer blade from subspace. "Hang on." He warned and sliced the rope tethering him to the ceiling.

Prowl fell and was caught quickly by the mercenary and he winced as he was held upside-down once more, chevrons nearly touching the ground. Gently he was set down as Jumper poked his head into the room, ears flicked forward. Peril glanced up at him and murmured to him in the language of Kalin. The cyberwolf _yamph_ed and transformed, palming the control panel. The door closed and the grey mech trotted over, looking amused.

"Red twin did this?" he asked, pulling out his own blade from subspace. He got to work freeing the Datsun's door-wings while Peril worked on freeing his arms completely.

"Sadly yes." Prowl replied dryly.

"Strange mech." was all Jumper said.

Peril chuckled. "This will take a while." He warned, tugging on a piece of tape near Prowl's shoulder and the tactician winced. "Is there a solvent for the adhesive?"

"Ratchet or Wheeljack would know." Prowl admitted.

"They are coming." Jumper announced. "Medic is laughing." The Datsun knew that the cyberwolf could speak English much better, but Jumper didn't seem to mind sounding a lot like a Dinobot and no one seemed to mind that he did so on purpose either.

True to his word, the engineer, medic, and, to Prowl's surprise, Firebird, appeared a moment later, closing and locking the door behind them. "When Firebird told me that you were becoming a butterfly, I didn't know what to say." Wheeljack said, kneeling beside the trapped tactician who didn't look amused.

The phoenix-mech said nothing, making a face at his friend before kneeling and pulling out a blade of his own to start freeing Prowl's legs. That out of the way, they fell into companionable silence broken only by a yelp from Prowl if Ratchet yanked too hard on the tape he was working off or Jumper who chuckled every once in a while at Prowl's predicament. While they worked to free him, Prowl regarded Peril as he worked.

For once, he was gentle with his actions, a thoughtful look on his face as he gingerly peeled off layer after layer of duct tape. "Have you had training as a medic?" he found himself asking the mercenary.

"Some." Peril admitted to their surprise. "I'm cleared to be a field medic, but not much more."

"It is useful when we are on a hunt." Firebird said in his careful way. "If we are injured, we have someone to repair us." While his brother remained stunted in his speech, the phoenix flourished in it, improving quickly.

Under Peril's careful blade and clawed hands, Prowl was soon able to move his arms, and the mercenary moved to work on his helm. Likewise, the other mechs were nearly finished, a large pile of silver-gray duct tape behind them.

"Peril, why were you in the storerooms anyway?" Ratchet asked as the last bit of duct tape was peeled off of Prowl's chassis. Sadly the tape had peeled off flakes of his paint, leaving him with flecks and areas where dull grey metal or primer shone through.

The mercenary didn't answer, eyeing the missing paint as Prowl sighed. "I had best get back to my reports."

_That_ certainly got Ratchet's attention. "Oh no you're not. You're coming with me to the med-bay so we can fix you up."

It wasn't until later that the medic realized that Peril hadn't answered his question.

* * *

_A few days later…_

_:Ratchet! Incoming wounded.:_ the CMO looked up, frowning as Wheeljack ran into the med-bay. _:ETA 5 minutes.:_

_:How many and what's their status?:_ he asked, wrapping up Peril's tools and putting them on the side so they wouldn't get in the way.

First Aid didn't sound very happy as he reported. _:Five wounded, one critical. A close-range shot from Megatron in his torso, one hand-span from his spark chamber. He's losing a lot of fluids, but I'm working to stop the leaking and stabilize him.:_

Wheeljack winced as he prepared an operation room for the wounded mech. _:Ironhide?:_ the engineer guessed as he prepared for the arrival of the wounded in the med-bay.

The young medic sounded mystified when he answered. _:No. Peril.:_

Firebird, who had followed Wheeljack into the med-bay, dropped the spanner he had been carrying. "It is very bad." He said, blue optics dimming as he concentrated on something his brother was no doubt telling him. "Jumper says that he is losing a lot of fluid and that his armor on his abdomen is nearly gone."

_:It's pretty bad, boss.:_ First Aid said quietly. _:We're nearly here.:_

"Prep the room." Ratchet called over his shoulder. "I'll meet them at the door."

It didn't take long for Skyfire to land, opening his hatch to release the wounded. Ratchet raced up the ramp with the stretcher, prepared for the worst. He inspected the mechs aboard, nodding to himself after realizing that they were all minor injuries. He hurried to the back where there was an area large enough to hold Peril.

True to Jumper's and his student's word, the mercenary was a mess. The armor was warped and melted, stuck in some places in uncomfortable clumps, preventing Peril from moving even if he had been conscious to do so. Prowl hovered nearby, door-wings held up stiffly.

To experienced optics, one could tell that he was tense and worried.

Fluid glimmered along the dark planes of grey and dark-red-russet metal. "Get him on the stretcher."

Prime, who had been nearby, helped to lift the massive mech on to the anti-grav. stretcher and stepped back, watching as First Aid led the pad to the med-bay while Ratchet trotted beside it, checking his student's work.

"Why hasn't he stopped leaking?" the CMO demanded.

"I didn't have much time," the other medic replied. "When I scanned him, I could tell he was injured, but there's nothing visible on his chassis other than his warped armor that indicated he was injured."

They reached the med-bay and heaved the mech on a berth and Ratchet immediately set about trying to open the mech's abdominal plating. Unlike a normal mech's armor, Peril's catches were hidden, making it relatively difficult to get the heavy pieces off his body.

It also didn't help that large pieces of his armor was welded to his frame from the heat of Megatron's blast.

Swearing to himself, Ratchet started in the areas on Peril's torso far away from the injuries, hoping to peel off the mercenary's torso armor in a large chunk. Wheeljack hurried to assist, opening the catches on the opposite side. When they attempted to lift the plates, the metal groaned but held.

Motioning for 'Jack to hold his end up, the medic peered in the holes in the armor and swore violently again. "Two layers."

Lifting the edges of the armor, they worked fast to open the final clasps and all but tossed the two melted chestplates aside. More or less back in his element, Ratchet set to work stabilizing the mech, getting Wheeljack to set up energon feeds while he himself set about stopping the leaks.

Luckily for Peril, there were no major injuries other than the ruptured fuel lines. The force of the blast, though, had managed to receive small tears and ruptures though they were minor and more of an inconvenience than anything.

Firebird appeared a little while later, once the mercenary had been stabilized. His brother limped in beside him, his front right paw a mangled mess. Purple fluid flattened his fur against his shoulders and back from four punctures near the base of his neck.

"What happen to you?" Swoop asked as he caught sight of Firebird helping Jumper on a berth near Peril's.

The cyberwolf gave a canine grin, baring fluid-stained fangs. His wire-fine whiskers twitched forward, further showing his amusement. Firebird frowned at his brother and inspected the puncture wounds. "He fought with a black cat and two red and blue mechs."

Firebird glanced at Peril, face unreadable. "Will…he be all right?"

The pause made Ratchet suspicious, but he said nothing of it. "He should be fine."

Jumper and Firebird look relieved, and the avian mech returned to his inspection of his brother's wounds. He spoke sharply to the cyberwolf in the language of Kalin, and judging by his tone, he was scolding him.

It was almost comical to see the smaller, younger brother so adamantly scolding the furred mech who merely lowered his head and rolled on his side unrepentantly. The mood lightened in the med-bay and as Swoop and First Aid moved to deal with the other injured, Ratchet and Wheeljack resumed their work on Peril, flushing out the spilled fluids in his chest cavity. Firebird, on the berth next to them, began work on his brother.

* * *

Peril's chest cavity was noticeably different than the chest cavity of any other Autobot, for it had only the most basic of systems: a fuel tank, a spark chamber, vents, fuel lines, coolant lines, transformation cog, etcetera. Any other mech's would have different internal components of whatever they transformed into. Standing between Sideswipe's prone chassis (he had received internal damage from the battle and was undergoing repairs) and Peril's, Ratchet could more clearly see the difference.

He could recognize the spark chamber, taking up a large portion of Peril's upper chest; Sideswipe's was smaller, perhaps just larger than his fist and nearly hidden beneath complex wires and Earth car parts. Peril had the four lung-like apparatus of a Pit-Dragon beside and beneath his spark chamber, with the intricate fuel tank beneath it, connected to his jaw and throat by a hollow tube. Sideswipe, though, held car engines, filters, and other pieces from his alternate mode.

Whenever he looked into the mercenary's chest cavity, he felt a strange sinking in his spark, especially when his gaze drifted to the mech's spark chamber. Or rather, the empty spot where it was _supposed_ to lie.

As if with a mind of their own, his optics drifted over to the small table beside the berth Peril lay upon, the glowing white-blue spark pulsing against the walls of the containment chamber. Every once in a while a small part of the spark arced like a miniature solar flare, impacting the edge of the field in a shower of refracted light and sparks. As if the spark itself was trying to break free.

Perceptor was watching the spark with rapt attention, optics glued to the spectacle while writing notes every few seconds on each shiver and pulse the glowing ball of white-blue fire-light gave off. When questioned, the red and teal mech had murmured about how fascinating it was, considering that modern science hadn't been able to fully observe a spark outside of it spark chamber.

Shaking his head, Ratchet returned to his work on Peril's body.

* * *

"What happened out there?" Wheeljack asked First Aid as they walked into the lounge. "How did Peril get so injured?"

The young medic looked hesitant. "I'm not entirely sure." He admitted. "I just looked up once and saw Megatron's cannon in my face and then he was just…there."

"Who were you working on?" the engineer asked as he sipped from his cube of energon.

"Prowl," the other replied. "Then I was about to get to work on Sideswipe."

Wheeljack shook his head. "I can't imagine he would just do something like that."

First Aid likewise shook his head. "I know what I saw, Wheeljack. But yeah, I don't believe it either."


	24. When You've Only Got 100 Years to Live

**I apologize for taking so long in updating, but I started school last month and our marching band practices have increased. Not to mention I was sick for half a week, but enough bitching. **

**I like Aesop's Fables and _Paradise Lost_ :)**

* * *

_15, there's never a wish better than this  
When you only got 100 years to live  
15 I'm all right with you_

_Half the time goes by  
__Suddenly you're wise  
__Another blink of an eye  
__67 is gone  
__The sun is getting high  
__We're moving on_

_I'm 99 for a moment  
__Dying for just another moment  
__And I'm just dreaming  
__Counting the ways to where you are_

_15 there's still time for you  
__22 I feel her too  
__33 you're on your way  
__Every day's a new day  
_~100 Years, Five for Fighting

* * *

_Two days previous…_

Peril crouched at the top of the ridge, Jumper as ever at his side. His expression was unreadable, optics flat and lip components drawn in a tight line. Firebird fluttered his wings on the other side, shifting them so that the scarlet and orange-gold appendages were folded properly along his spinal ridge. The crest that lined his helm twitched. _"How long will we hold our speech?"_ he asked at last.

The mercenary rumbled, spine-spikes rippling in an undulating wave of razor-sharp blades. _"As long as it takes."_

"_And if they find out on their own?"_ Jumper asked, whiskers flicking forward as a new breeze teased his olfactory sensors.

"_They will not."_

Firebird gave a low _kvrrr_. _"You are very confident of that fact."_

Peril glanced at him and the avian mech shrugged. Peril wasn't like other Elders who demanded a show of respect: he preferred brutal honesty. _"I have to be."_ Peril said simply, returning his cold gaze to the landscape around them.

The avian mech shifted and rearranged his feathers, crouching so that his upper torso was flat against the sun-baked stone, spreading his wings to further catch the warming rays of the sun. _"This is a fascinating planet, and the Autobot Wheeljack is as fascinating as the planet is. It would be a shame to leave."_

Jumper made an amused sound, offering his brother a canine grin. _"He just makes your fires burn brighter."_ He teased. The phoenix made a low sound but didn't deny it. His tail feathers shifted as his wings opened slightly to fan the air, kicking up dust and grit before folding neatly once more along his spinal ridge.

Peril said nothing, merely content to gaze out over the expanse of desert from the ridge they stood on, broken only by the forms of shivering heat waves and the spots of Autobots walking around. The mercenary's lips twisted slightly in a smile as he felt the heat pouring down on his armor. This dry desert heat made Jumper slightly uncomfortable with his thick fur, but it was perfect weather for Firebird and Peril, and for a long moment they basked together in it.

"_You should return to the _Ark_."_ Peril commented and Firebird glanced at him. _"Wheeljack must be wondering where you are."_

The phoenix smiled slightly and Jumper gave a broken laugh. _"Lovesick fools."_

Firebird transformed and hopping on his brother's back, tugged on the other's ear. Jumper _yipp_ed and tried to spin and catch the other on his back while Peril looked on in amusement. The avian hopped on the mercenary's back and leapt off into the sky, feathers catching the sunlight and shimmering in a mirage of color. Jumper threw his head back. _"Ayuyuyuuuu!"_ he called, shaking himself off. The cyberwolf shook his himself again and crouched once more beside the mercenary.

Peril glanced down from the ridge, optics narrowing as he zeroed in on the Autobots wandering the desert. He had followed them because he had felt like it, having been confined to the most part to the _Ark_ and the _Shadow Flash_. The sun was doing him good for all he didn't know why exactly the Autobots were out in the desert like this.

"_Shall we go down and attempt to help them?"_ Peril asked lazily, rippling his back-spines. Jumper agreed (Hound was down there and he liked to work with the green tracker, though not for the same reasons Firebird liked to work with Wheeljack) and soon the mercenary was picking his way down the sloped ridge with his cyberwolf friend loped beside him.

"Did you see anything interesting?" Hound asked, seeing them walk over. "You were gone for a while."

Peril shrugged. "We were just up on that ridge over there," he said, motioning to their previous location. Jumper chattered beside them, whiskers flicking forward. Peril glanced at him. "He says that there are long-eared rodents behind a few bushes over there." He added, jerking his head at the scraggly brush and cacti a ways away.

It was almost pathetic how fast Hound's attention was diverted and Peril shook his head, leaving Jumper to dance around Hound's legs eagerly. "Why are we here again?" he drawled lazily, turning to face Prowl whose door-wings twitched slightly.

"Why are _you_ here or why are the _Autobots_ here?" he asked just as dryly.

The mercenary's lip components twitched upward slightly in a smirk. "You Autobots."

Prowl's door-wings twitched slightly once more. "There's a particular type of cactus out here that a few human scientists have discovered. It's an endangered species and very rare, but it has a certain structure that allows it to produce a lot more energy than other cacti."

"So you came out to make a statement of relief efforts while possibly hoping for a sample to take back to the _Ark_ for study?"

"That sounds about right." Was the tactician's dry reply.

The two looked over to where Jumper loped around a few bits of scraggly brush, chasing something comparatively small to his horse-sized bulk. Abruptly the dark grey form skidded to a stop, ears pricked forward. The tiny flash of movement seized the chance his pursuer gave it and disappeared into a dark little hole around the corner of a rock. He turned slightly and gave a low chatter, ears flat to his head and fur bristled.

The heavy plates along Peril's spine shifted and the deadly spine-spikes snapped upward as he stared off into the distance. "Decepticons approaching," he told the tactician in a deceptively mild voice. His long, scythe-bladed tail swung like that of an agitated Earth cat but careful of his close proximity, the blade shifting away when it approached his leg. Jumper was backing up now, a low, near-subsonic growl rumbling through his chest.

"I'm sure we can take them." Hound said confidently. It was Hound, Peril, Jumper, Perceptor, Prowl and Beachcomber against the Decepticons, and though Perceptor and Beachcomber didn't usually fight, Peril and Jumper made up for it, for they all knew that Peril was deadly for his brute strength alone, not counting his other skills in regards to killing.

"We should try to move them away from the cacti," Prowl said, glancing at the prickly plants around them. The _rare_ cacti.

"If it's us they're after," Peril rumbled. His spine-blades rippled and the tension twisting around him caused many to step back as if propelled backwards by an unseen but very tangible force.

"We have to try," Hound said, glancing at the foliage around them. By then the roar of jets was audible and the tiny dots in the clear blue sky just barely visible, angling toward them.

Peril glanced down at Jumper. "Go with the humans. If the Decepticons go after them, call for us. We're going to try and lead them away." The cyberwolf gave a low _yampf_ in acknowledgement and loped after the humans in their vehicles. He lifted his head to the sky, able to make out the forms of the jets. "We'd better be on our way," he said, a frown creasing his face.

Transforming, the Autobots and mercenary sped off in the opposite direction that the humans had gone. _:It seems to be working,:_ Peril said, the only one able to simultaneously monitor the skies while racing away. _:They're altering their course to follow us.:_

_:Good.:_ said Prowl. _:Do you know how far we can take them before they catch up?:_

Beside him, the Pit-Dragon snorted. _:There's a whisper on the wind that they're herding us. Stop. Now.:_

The Autobots screeched to a halt as a bronzed beast appeared on the ridge just ahead of them, and as the dust settled, a great sound washed over them. It sounded at first like a bell, low, sonorous tones that pulled through the air and shivered like a scarf fluttering in the wind. Mixed with it was the sound like a scream, a cry like an eagle's shriek that sent shivers down the spinal struts of any who heard.

Yet its affect on Peril was different; his triangular spine-blades snapped up and he slid into a fierce crouch, a low growl shivering in the air around him. The cry ended and as the last discordant sounds disappeared from the air, Peril's growl increased in volume. He threw his head back, razor-sharp teeth glittering in the light, acid-spittle dripping between the rows. His roar was deep, the sound of a ship's horn given life like a lion's roar. All around, Autobots covered their audios as they fought their instincts of abject terror to run, to flee into the desert, away from this monstrous hell-beast.

"It's Slash," Prowl said grimly, transforming. He stood near Peril's shoulder, fighting his own natural fear of the two beasts. However, Slash seemed as surprised and frightened as anyone else, having frozen for a few blessed seconds. In that time, he looked over what Autobots were with him. Reinforcements were coming, but they needed to buy time. Peril could no doubt handle Slash; he was nearly twice her size. That left Hound and himself as fighters, at least until Jumper returned. Against Megatron, Soundwave, and two formations of Seekers.

Slash gave another cry, one which Peril cut off with a roar of his own, nearly deafening the Autobots in his fury. His tail lashed, slicing through the air as he bared his fangs in defiant challenge. The air dragon gave a seething hiss, spreading her gold-and-silver wings threateningly as she crept forward, armor plates rippling as she prepared to leap.

The jet engines roared closer though the two creatures seemed oblivious to it as the Autobots drew their weapons as it was evident that even should they turn to run, they wouldn't be able to get very far. Slash leapt forward, wings propelling her even as the tense muscle-cables in her legs gave her lunge power. But Peril was larger and stronger, and with a sudden lunge, slammed bodily into the smaller dragon, the force of their clash taking them both over the lip of the ravine.

* * *

Because Peril's spark was safe in the spark-containment chamber and was being constantly monitored by Perceptor, Ratchet didn't have to worry too much about fixing Peril's body. Well, he did because Jumper always looked ever so perturbed whenever he walked in the med-bay to see his captain's spark being studied while his body lay open to the world and he couldn't stand the reproachful look he always earned whenever the cyberwolf caught sight of him.

Peril wasn't in any life-threatening danger, and since Ratchet wasn't familiar with his body-design, he went slowly and carefully on the repairs to the mercenary. That's what he kept telling himself, anyway.

He had received the reports from Optimus, Prowl, Sideswipe, and Hound about what happened in the desert, but he couldn't understand Peril's actions. He was almost reluctant to bring him back online.

With a shaky sigh he leaned back against another berth, glaring at the prone form as if it would produce answers, or at least chastise him for being so foolish. Weeks ago he would've…well, he didn't know what he would've done. He'd been so _sure_ that this was Russet, but after what Peril said to him that day they were forced into the lava tubes…he was questioning himself.

In many ways, Peril was Russet. But in many ways, Russet wasn't Peril. They had the same scars and mannerisms, and he suspected that they had the same interests to some extent. Yet…Peril was a cold-sparked killer. He suddenly remembered Serenade's words spoken from a lifetime ago.

_Their boss reformatted them so that they'd be the most dangerous warriors possible. As a side-effect, however, they began to think more like Pit-Dragons than Cybertronians. Especially if they're fighting. Based on my observations of their behavior, I think that they have the mind and instincts of a Pit-Dragon somewhere in their cortex._

_Like multiple personalities?_ Wheeljack had asked.

_Yea, but slightly different: they're two creatures in one body. I suppose it's because of their dual minds that they're able to function so well in either form._

Ratchet glanced over at Peril's prone form once more, frowning thoughtfully. Ranthanoss had never seemed to be in charge of their body, but Ratchet knew better. He was always there, lurking in the back of her cortex. Ranthanoss had been there, had been _controlling_ their body in the fight in the pits. He was willing to bet that the fight with Bandit's pit-beasts had been won though him.

He wondered if it had been Ranthanoss who spoke to him on the ridge. Ranthanoss who pushed him, snarled at him. To a Pit-Dragon, the Autobots would seem weak, insignificant.

The medic remembered the fable Spike had told them once. Ratchet had been among the few that were willing to listen to the human, and found himself entranced by this tale called an 'Aesop's Fable,' whatever that was.

_Once when a Lion was asleep, a little Mouse began running up and own upon him; this soon wakened the Lion, who placed his huge paw upon him, and opened his big jaws to swallow him._ The boy had read. _"Pardon, O King," cried the little Mouse: "forgive me this time, I shall never forget it: who knows but what I may be able to do you a turn of some these days?"_

_The Lion was so ticked at the idea of the Mouse being able to help him that he lifted up his paw and let him go. Some time after, the Lion was caught in a trap, and the hunters who desired to carry him alive to the King, tied him to a tree while they went in search of a wagon to carry him on._

_Just then, the little Mouse happened to pass by, and seeing the sad plight in which the Lion was, went up to him and soon gnawed away the ropes that bound the King of the Beasts. "Was I not right?" said the little Mouse._

After he got over the idea of anthropomorphism to convey a moral lesson for youngling humans, it made him think of Peril and Ranthanoss. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise the medic if Peril was sticking around because he thought the Autobots were useful. But for what?

That was the big question.

Jumper, who was watching the medic's musings from his spot on a berth near his captain's spark stopped his merry panting, ears pricking almost painfully forward before flattening. He snarled, blue optics trained on something – or some_one_ that only he seemed able to see. Ratchet glanced around.

No one else was in the med-bay, and Perceptor had just stepped out to get a cube of Energon from the rec. room, promising to bring one back for him. Jumper climbed to his feet, webbed claws making low _click_s on the berth as he shifted, wire-fur rising until he resembled a perturbed Earth cat.

Like water sliding off her form, visibility came slowly to Slash's serpentine body, her bronzed and gold coloring giving her the appearance of blending into the _Ark_'s walls. Her russet optics shone brightly as she gave a croaking growl-groan, one claw tapping the tile as if waiting.

In shock, Ratchet stumbled backwards. "I wouldn't call for help if I were you," Slash said slowly and deliberately. It was true when Russet said long ago that it was difficult to speak; they had no discernable lip components that were moveable enough to speak. Slash seemed to have more malleable ones, but they still seemed stiff and difficult. Her claws dug fine grooves in the tile floor as she shook her wings, careful not to hit anything.

Jumper growled again, a warning. "What do you want, Slash?" Ratchet demanded, moving to place himself between Peril's body and Slash. It coincidentally put him beside Jumper, who was shaking though in fear or anger he wasn't sure.

"What do you think, medico?" the Decepticon hissed, tail slashing the air. Ratchet shivered at the old nickname, at the old memory her words brought forth. "I want to see her."

The medic glanced at Peril's prone form, then back at Slash. "How do I know-"

Slash snorted derisively. "For Pit's sake, medico, _think_. Do you not have the reports yet? We _fought_, she and I. If either of us are not dead, what does that mean?"

The femme transformed in a smooth motion, optics bright. She danced closer, utterly confident in her motions. And deadly. Ratchet had faith in Jumper, but he wasn't sure the cyberwolf would be able to take the dragon-femme. Slowly, he shook his head. He didn't know.

Her lips peeled back in a derisive snarl. "You are an idiot, medico." She sneered, dancing around the table, drawing her razor-sharp claws along the top. The spines along her back rippled and her wings fluttered slightly. "Three sparks, four minds, two bodies. That is what we are."

Ratchet stepped back, feeling the back of his shoulder brush against Jumper's, the cyberwolf's snarling muzzle beside his face. The creature's snarls softened mercifully to a more bearable level and Ratchet brushed his fingers against what bit of fur he could touch in gratitude. He couldn't think of a response for Slash, however. Not when the words she told him were parodies of what Russet used to tell him.

The door hissed open and Slash was gone. Jumper whimpered and nudged his helm gently as if asking if he was all right. Ratchet reached up and scratched his ears, something he knew the cyberwolf liked. The cyberwolf gave him a canine grin and hopped off the berth, tail wagging as he walked around, cataloguing the new scents.

"Jumper," blue optics rose to meet his curiously. "Was she right?"

To his surprise, Jumper didn't transform, merely stared back at him placidly, glossa lolling out of his fanged mouth as if nothing was amiss. The door opened again and Firebird blinked hawkishly at him. He fluttered his wings and patted Jumper's shoulders, pausing to inspect the scar before looking up at Ratchet. "Peril is very different." He said, but that was it. Both brothers refused to say anything more.

* * *

The collision and roll down the other side of the ravine only shook them up a bit and both were on their claws in astroseconds. Just as fast they leapt at each other blindly in a rush of fangs and claws. After a moment they dashed apart, tails lashing.

Peril stepped forward though all aggression had drained from his frame. He transformed as Slash did likewise, pressing his clawed hands gently against the forehead portion of her helm in a gentle gesture. Words were exchanged, but not in a way others could hear. It was a secret moment between them broken only by the sound of battle.

The mercenary spun and transformed, leaping off the ridge in a swift motion. Slash followed a moment later with an angry shriek, leaping into the air. Peril dodged a blast from Dirge while kicking Beachcomber out of the way of a strafing run from Slash. The bounty hunter threw his head back and roared when Ravage leapt astride his shoulders.

Before the black cassette could sink his fangs into his armor, he was knocked off by a large force the size of an Earth horse, armed with claws and fangs. Jumper snarled as Rumble and Frenzy joined the fight with their brother. He snarled again as Ravage leapt at him and dodged, ducking when Frenzy tried to tackle him from the side.

* * *

Wheeljack frowned behind his mask, leaning back in his chair as he regarded Ratchet. "So she just walked in, said that Peril was female, and walked out?"

"More like _hinted_," Ratchet corrected crossly. "She said a lot of things I don't get, took a look at Peril, then walked right back out."

The engineer's brow-ridge rose. "And you didn't call for help?"

Ratchet glared at him. "I had a Decepticon femme two berths away in _dragon-form_. If I so much as _cycled_ wrong she would've been able to kill me in an astrosecond." He snapped.

"Jumper would've protected you," Wheeljack pointed out, taking a sip of his energon after making sure that no one else was in the officer's mess. "Even if he was injured," He added, seeing his friend's dark look. "He would've thrown himself between you and Slash if she charged."

"How could you be so sure?" Ratchet muttered, but shook his head when his friend moved to speak. "Don't answer that. It's not what she did that bothers me, it's what she _said_."

Wheeljack leaned back in his chair. "Well, as the humans say, I'm all ears."

Ratchet sighed and likewise leaned back in his chair. "Well, she called me an idiot, but she also said that…well, she hinted that Peril was Russet. That he was her twin."

The engineer's brow-ridge rose again. "Is she right?"

"I honestly don't know. I think when Keel Haul reformatted Russet, he made them androgynous." He bit his lip component when he was about to add that she _did_ have feminine parts and a sparkling containment chamber but remembered that that was one secret that he _didn't_ share with Wheeljack. He sighed. "I guess we'll have to wait until Peril wakes up."

"Have you finished the repairs?" Wheeljack asked, snapping his mask back in place as Ratchet made to stand.

The medic nodded. "I just put his spark back in after Slash left. Kept him in stasis until I was sure I did everything right."

"Who'd you leave with him?"

"First Aid was in the med-bay when I left, but Firebird and Jumper said they'd stay and keep an eye on him." was the reply. "I should start-"

_:Uh, boss? You might want to get back now.:_ Poor First Aid sounded distressed.

Quickly, Ratchet added Wheeljack's code to their comm.s and broke into a run. _:What is it?:_

There was a long pause as the two skidded around a corner, nearly running Jazz over in their haste. Throwing an apology over his shoulder, Wheeljack nearly missed First Aid's next message. _:Peril's awake.:_

* * *

When they reached the med-bay, they found First Aid outside the door, shuffling nervously. "I stepped out for just one second and when I come back, he's up and walking around." He said, optics wide behind his visor.

Wheeljack patted his shoulder while Ratchet peeked through the glass windows, just barely making out the massive shape moving around slowly. He could just barely make out the shapes of Firebird and Jumper, stationary for the most part, and was glad that there was someone else in the med-bay with Peril. Even if it was _those_ two.

"It's al right," he assured First Aid quickly. "You did fine." Carefully he opened the door and poked his head in.

Jumper was looking at something that Peril held in his claws, and the mercenary's broad back was facing Ratchet for the moment so he couldn't see what it was. The cyberwolf chattered while the other listened patiently, writing notes on a data-pad on his left.

"A middling-sized?" Firebird asked, crest lifting in interest as he stood and walked over to whatever Peril and his brother were looking at. "It would make Shadow Flash look tiny."

Jumper chattered and both glanced at him as he spoke quickly, optics shining excitedly. "That is true," Peril said smoothly, voice an octave or so higher than usual. "But you know that she does not care too much about size."

"Shape her like Earth animal?" Jumper asked, transforming, tail still wagging. He had picked that up from the vids he had seen of Earth canines. "Water animal?"

Peril's spines rippled in amusement and Ratchet eased into the room, careful to be very quiet. "Which one? There are many Earth animals that live in the water."

"We can ask _Advallankastel Kulinminkayanalpa_." Jumper suggested, optics shining brightly as he stood in front of Peril, blocked from Ratchet's view by his captain's body mass. "He knows about animals here."

Firebird caught a glimpse of the medic and he looked vaguely perturbed before turning back to the conversation in front of him. "Perhaps a predator? Let us narrow it down for him, at least."

The mercenary lifted the data-pad and jotted down notes. "A predator? I suppose that narrows it down a lot. Perhaps with a fish-like body? Forgive me, Jumper, but I cannot imagine _Avallakvilkansta Aminazellianzaklaman_ as anything resembling a squid or eel."

"No, no. Are right." Jumper said, nodding even as his nose wrinkled.

Peril nodded at last. "I will leave it up to you to ask _Advallankastel Kulinminkayanalpa_ about Earth water-animal-predators. Until then, I cannot proceed very much further in the plans."

The cyberwolf-mech nodded eagerly and hopped down from the table, turning. He froze when he noticed Ratchet, optics widening almost comically like a youngling caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. Seeing the direction of his gaze, Peril turned and regarded Ratchet, blinking slowly.

"What are you doing up?" he snapped, trying to cover his surprise.

Peril's armor shivered as he blinked again. "Up? I am here." He sounded confused.

"An Earth saying, Ra." Jumper said helpfully.

Firebird chattered something in Kalin, sounding rather irritated. The other merely glanced at him idly, listening to what he had to say before nodding. "I am 'up' because I am awake." Peril said slowly, carefully. "Am I not supposed to be?"

"You're _injured_." Ratchet snapped and Peril looked taken aback for a moment. "You need to _rest_. I don't _care_ if you disregard your health when you're butchering innocent lives, you're under _my_ care and you'll stay in your frakking berth until _I_ say that you're well enough to move. Got it?"

Peril loomed over him in all his 20-foot-or-so glory, probably without meaning to as he thought. He was frowning. "I am not a killer, Ratchet," He sounded very much disapproving. "And I do not butcher-"

"I'm _sorry_," Ratchet growled. "You're a _mercenary_. A hired grunt."

The armor along Peril's shoulder shifted upward like the tensing of organic muscles and the spines along his back armor snapped upward in a deadly fray. Richly golden optics narrowed and large, clawed hands clenched. "I had expected this from my brother or Percy, Ratchet, not from you. As I do not tolerate it with them, I will not tolerate it with you. I am not a killer, Autobot Medic Ratchet and that is the last time I will say it regardless of your opinions."

He spun and behind him, Ratchet could see that there was a large, collapsible screen stretched out over the berth, blueprints by the look of it. It was folded quickly and subspaced, along with the data-pad. "Tell me, Peril, you aren't stupid. Why did you jump in front of Megatron's fusion cannon?" Wheeljack asked, entering with First Aid. Firebird and Jumper froze, both bristling at the question as if afraid of the outcome.

Peril turned around, optics shuttered. He unshuttered them, staring down at the three Autobots. "I am not Peril." He said slowly, deliberately. "But I was the one that jumped in front of the cannon. You may think me a merciless killer no matter the fact that I am not, but I will not stand by and watch my son be killed, even if it means forfeiting my own life."

Brushing past them, he left, shimmering out of existence – at least the visible kind.

"I will speak with _Advallankastel Kulinminkayanalpa_ now," Jumper said slowly, dashing out of the room while transforming in mid-stride.

Firebird remained where he sat, feminine face facing them disapprovingly. "We have said once before that Peril is very different. It was our Secret to keep, one that Peril did not want you to find out about."

"You knew?" Ratchet snarled, voice dangerous.

"Most certainly," Firebird replied easily. "_Avallakyilkansta Susavilyekarzen_ was very…distraught over the destruction of Kalin. She was also very sad for she thought that her…mate was dead. That was where Peril stepped forward. She fell from view as he stepped forward." The phoenix hesitated, shuffling his wings.

"Wait. So it's like there's two people in one body?" Wheeljack asked, scratching his head.

Firebird nodded. "It is so. _Avallakyilkansta Susavilyekarzen_ and Peril are in the same body. Two minds separate but bound together through their body."

Ratchet looked at Wheeljack, knowing that part of his deal of working with Firebird was for each of them to teach the other a language: Firebird to teach Wheeljack the language of Kalin (or, as some of the others were calling it, Kalinese or Kalinmanian) and Wheeljack to teach Firebird English. "From what I understand, _Avallakyilkansta_ means 'one who is,' and is the beginning of a female name." the engineer said, trying to be helpful. "The second part has the words of 'autumn' and 'leaves' in it, but I'm not entirely sure of the full meaning."

Ratchet sat down on a convenient stool, putting his head in his hands. It was all clicking together now. "One-Who-Is-Like-The-Autumn-Leaves." He said. "Russet."

"It can't be Russ, Ratch." Wheeljack said, vocal indicators flashing dimly. "You heard what he said earlier." He was, of course, alluding to their "conversation" with Peril on the cliff.

The medic looked up and met optics with First Aid. "What you've heard so far will not be spread amongst the crew, am I right?"

First Aid gave him an incredulous look as if asking why he would bother to spread rumors amongst the Autobots. Ratchet nodded in understanding. "Slash said was the truth. Three sparks, four minds, two bodies. A set of twins are a split spark, but Russet used to tell me that she had always had one and a half sparks in her chest: half from her and her sister, and a whole one that called himself Ranthanoss."

Wheeljack's optics widened slightly. "Ranthanoss and Rykenta." He had heard the names before, usually spoken by Serenade or Ironhide whenever the twins had done something particularly violent.

Ratchet nodded. "Ranthanoss and Rykenta are the minds and sparks of Pit-Dragons merged with Russet and Slash's. Three sparks, four minds, two bodies."

First Aid frowned behind his facemask. "So when we were talking to Peril…"

"We were actually talking to Ranthanoss." Wheeljack finished, catching on as quickly as First Aid had. "But then we were just talking to Russet then, weren't we?"

Ratchet nodded again, putting his head down again. "So that would mean that Russet is Prowl's mother…." The engineer paused. "Does she know?"

"Of course she does," Ratchet snapped, glaring at his friend. He sighed, rubbing his helm in a very human gesture. Firebird was silent, watching them with solemn blue optics. "Prowl doesn't know, and from the times I've spoken to her, she doesn't want him to know." He looked at the phoenix mech. "Where are they right now?"

"On the way to _Idvikan_ _Shadow Flash_." Was the reply.

"Is it far?"

"Not very far, no."

"Take me there." Firebird regarded him for a long moment, optics unreadable.

"Why?" he asked at last. "The damage you have done today will still be there tomorrow." He added rather brutally.

Wheeljack winced. "That was kinda harsh, 'Bird."

The phoenix-mech turned his aquamarine optics on the engineer. "I am merely stating facts," he said. "Life is harsh. Nature is harsh. _War_ is harsh. But you know this already. In the early stages of the invasion of Kalin, I learned this."

"We couldn't have known," Ratchet protested weakly. Even as he said it he knew it was a transparent excuse.

Eagle-like optics flashed to him. "Is your ideas about other races not 'more that meets the eye?'" he asked, sounding rather sharp. "Do you merely judge others on their appearance? If I were to look at you as I would have back on Kalin, I would assume that you were a youngling in a large body for you had not the animal parts of a full adult. Yet I know that you are older than I am, vastly so. Would you look at me an earth-week or two ago and know that I am a full adult from Kalin who 'transforms' into a sun-hawk?" Sun-hawk being the Kalin equivalent of an Earth phoenix. "You Autobots claim to be open to all yet you are so close-minded and near-sighed that you do not see what a Kalinma – or even a Decepticon – can see."

First Aid peered at the small, feminine-tiny mech. "What do you mean? We're the good guys."

"Are you truly?" Firebird asked. "You see the 'cannots.' Decepticons see the 'can be's. You see a Decepticon sympathizer working for them. The Decepticons see someone trying to make a living in an impoverished town or familial group. What do you fight for? Do you fight for your world or for a world that is not your own? Is it not easier to fight for something tangible, something you can see is working or is not? For what do the Decepticons fight for?" he paused, obviously waiting for an answer.

"To take over?" the poor medic was confused now.

The phoenix-mech blinked slowly. "They fight to see the end of war. To see the end of their sufferings. They have the same ideas as you Autobots. They want freedom so badly that they can _smell_ it." Where he learned that phrase no one was quite sure. "They fight for the freedom of their identity. The ability to choose for themselves what they want to do rather than their own ingrained programming." He tilted his head to the side. "Do you see now? Do you understand? If you try to see the world from just one perspective, you see nothing." He got to his feet, avian claws clicking on the tile as his metal feathers hissed against the berth. They clattered like human wind-chimes as they settled. "Jumper and I will visit _Idvikan_ _Shadow Flash_ tonight. Perhaps we can coerce _Avallakyilkansta Susavilyekarzen Villanamalkestalaz Sundakavfit_ to return."

And he left, wings mantling, wisps of smoke and fire – the signal of his anger or irritation – drifting in his wake.

* * *

**Quick Notes:**

_-Idvikan-_ ship/cruiser  
_-Advallankastel – "_one who is…"(male)  
_-Kulinminkayanalpa –_ "lover-of-the-hunt"  
_-Avallakvilkansta –_ "one who is…" (female)  
_-Aminazellianzaklaman – "_ethereal-being-of-the-seas/waters/oceans"  
_-Villanamalkestalaz –_ "(one) who is also"  
_-Susavilyekarzen –_ "like-the-autumn-leaves"  
_-Sundakavfit - _dangerous

**Names:  
**_-_**Kalinma names are made of two "words." The first is a sort of prefix that describes the name. "One who is..." and "A part of..." are two common "prefixes." The "root" of the name would be considered the second "word," which describes the character of a Kalinma. Younglings are called by their root name (i.e. Bluestreak being called "_Kanxelarngya_" rather than his technical full name of "_Advallankastel Kanxelarngya_"), and when they reach adulthood, they change their names based further on their character.**  
-_Advallankastel Kulinminkayanalpa_: Hound. Lit. "one who is a lover of the hunt." This is the Kalinma name that Jumper gave him, implying that he finds kinship with Hound in addition to hinting that Hound, like him, is a lover of the hunt (tracking)  
-_Avallakvilkansta Aminazellianzaklaman_: Jumper's mate, lit. "one who is an ethereal being of the ocean/sea/water." Stated as dead. Russet is in the process of making a ship in her honor.  
-_Avallakyilkansta Susavilyekarzen_: Russet. Lit. "one who is like the autumn leaves." further meaning and reason for the name is not known.  
-_Avallakyilkansta Susavilyekarzen Villanamalkestalaz Sundakavfit_: Russet and Ranthanoss. Lit. "One who is like the autumn leaves but is also dangerous." Firebird uses this name for them at the end of the chapter, meaning them as a whole. The _Villanamalkestalaz_, which means "(one) who is also", implies more that it is more considered "'one who is like the autumn leaves' but is also 'dangerous.'" In more "English" terms, it could be considered "Russet who is also Ranthanoss."  
-Ra: Jumper's nickname for Russet is Ra, a shortened version of her name. Rus-set? Ra? Ru minus the S? Ra? Get it? Yeah.


	25. Can't Make This All Go Away

**Sorry it took so long. I got a major case of writer's block as school decided to be a pain and attack me with homework and deadlines. I realized that a lot of the titles I have for the chapters are a bit abstract....hm...**

**Don't own Transformers except Fegali, _Shadow Flash_, Amina, Narzenim, Windtreader/Russet/Peril/Ranthanoss, Gold/Slash/Windslasher/Windstreaker/Rykenta. Also don't own _Because of You_ by Nickelback.**

* * *

**_Hands on the mirror, can't get much clearer  
CAN'T MAKE THIS ALL GO AWAY  
Now that you're bleeding you stare at the ceiling  
Watch as it all fades away_**

**_From what you do, because of you  
You know I can't be there  
Each time that you call  
I swore not to come, but I'm here after all  
I know by the look that I see in your eye  
I won't stand around and I won't watch you die  
From what you do, because of you_**

* * *

Wheeljack was silent for a long moment, watching forlornly as the tail feathers of his friend disappeared from view. "I know it may seem heartless of me to say so, but I keep forgetting how intelligent they really are."

First Aid made a non-committal noise in the back of his vocalizer, looking at Ratchet. "Boss?"

Seeing that the medics were paying him no mind, Wheeljack left to chase after his friend, finding the phoenix-mech perched high above the _Ark_, along a ridge of boulders that was one of his favorite perches. The scarlet feathers shimmered against the ruddy black-brown of the dusty lava-encrusted mountainside, flashing in beautifully fiery lights in the rays of the late afternoon sun.

Ocean-blue optics were trained on him as he hiked perilously upwards, following the trail of rough-hewn rocks in a mockery of a stairway. After a long while of struggling, he reached the boulders Firebird sat on, wings spread slightly to catch the sun.

"That climb never gets easier." He commented off-handedly, eyeing his Kalinma friend.

Firebird's crest fluttered and he whistled in mild amusement. The engineer heaved himself up on a boulder beside the one his friend sat on and took a moment to settle. "I apologize for what I said earlier," Firebird said before Wheeljack could say anything. "It was cruel of me. I was very callous."

Wheeljack waved it off. "It's all right, 'Bird. It was something we needed to hear."

"I somehow doubt that." Firebird sighed, crest lowering. "It is just that…she has gone through a lot and she was so sad…it is hard to see her sad again."

"Do you really think you could get her to return?" Wheeljack asked. "I remember when we were in the Academy that whenever she was sad, she locked herself up."

Firebird whistled, a low, sad sound. "Aye, it is still so. She will work herself into stasis, I fear. When Jumper is finished speaking with Autobot Hound, we will leave and see if we can return by tomorrow."

The engineer sighed. "When do you think you'll be back?"

"At the earliest, we will return tomorrow afternoon," Firebird replied. "If we are not here by tomorrow evening, do not expect us to return for some time." the phoenix turned and looked at his friend, fluttering his wings slightly before allowing them to settle once more along his spine.

It took an experienced optic to tell that Firebird was unhappy, and Wheeljack was glad that he was among the select few that could read the Kalinma's body-language. "How long, do you think?"

Feathers rippled as he shrugged. "I do not know. It could be as short as a week; it could be as long as a month or a year. I am not sure."

Wheeljack winced. "I'd miss you." He said rather bluntly, and the avian mech gave a hint of a smile.

"I would miss you too." Firebird's gaze turned downward and the engineer could see Jumper at the entrance of the _Ark_, looking up at them with one hand shading his optics. "It seems that it is time for me to go." He observed, standing carefully on the boulder. He gave another soft smile. "I will see you soon, I hope." He threaded his clawed fingers through one of his wings, pinching them together slowly. When he pulled them away from his wing, a long, sliver of metal was gripped between them. He tugged it gently, scarlet and gold metal glittering, and handed the feather to Wheeljack with a certain sense of ceremony.

Surprised, the engineer accepted the feather and was rewarded with a half-smile from Firebird. With a nod, the phoenix-mech turned and leapt into the air, transforming as his claws left the ground. Releasing a long, mournful cry he spread his wings wide, allowing the hot desert air to fill them.

Wheeljack watched the shape of his friend glide through the air, his shadow swallowed up by Jumper who raced gleefully below him. When his optics could no longer see the merest glimpse of red in the sky, he gave up and began his perilous climb down the mountainside.

* * *

The recording of the SOS rippled through the silent room and the 'Bots watched in silent horror as the blood-streaked scientist called for help, saying that his complex was under attack by what appeared to be Decepticons, and that some of the scientists were killed while the rest fled to the underground bunkers.

"You know your job," Optimus Prime said as the recording ended, letting his optics drift over the gathered Autobots. "Autobots, transform and roll out!"

In pairs the Autobots folded into their respected vehicle forms, tires spinning madly as they chased after their leader. Like a pack of hunting wolves they lined up and moved behind him, racing down the deserted roads. Fortunately for the scientists, their lab was near the _Ark_, making the trip relatively short. As it was, though, when the Autobots arrived, they were met with carnage and the sight of a bloody cyberwolf.

Golden optics flashed to them and it snarled, cerulean-spotted grey fur rising threateningly. Scarlet liquid dripped from his lips and down his whiskers. It paced in front of them before turning and charging at the complex, spinning at the last minute to impact the wall with his shoulder; it groaned and grumbled as it crumpled beneath the force, revealing the fearful knot of scientists.

"Jumper!" Hound cried, recognizing the Kalinma.

The cyberwolf showed no sign that he heard, spinning to snarl at the scientists, wholly ignoring the Autobots. There were twin screams from above and the Autobots jerked their optics upward, freezing at what they saw.

The scientists dropped from Firebird's claws impacted the ground with dull crunches, bouncing a bit before settling. The asphalt beneath them darkened then glittered as fluid flowed from the hideously fatal wounds, merging to form a vast ocean of death and carnage. The places where Firebird's claws touched their body were dark, blistered bands of burnt flesh and cloth and their faces were twisted, frozen forever into screams.

What few scientists were left had at least the presence of mind to run toward the Autobots for safety. The Autobots jumped into action, moving to protect the humans as they scrambled over themselves to remain alive. A dot of shadow in the shape of an eagle raced over the ground, growing larger and larger as Firebird dove. He snatched up two of the scientists not fortunate enough to be able to run fast enough toward the Autobots, opening his wings and rising quickly into the air with both humans in his talons.

By then Jumper was finished with his massacre, turning to snarl at the scientists hiding behind the Autobots. "Jumper, why are you doing this?" Hound asked, raising his hands toward his friend. The cyberwolf snarled, baring red-stained fangs. His optics were nearly white in his anger – or was it bloodlust? – and he paced in front of the Autobots as if taunting them.

"Blades, chase after Firebird. Get those scientists back."

The Protectobot nodded and leapt into the air, thudding heavily after the absently wheeling phoenix. "Firebird, stop it!" Blades cried, wheeling after the Kalinma. "Release them!"

Firebird twisted into a dizzy spin, the screaming scientists trailing in his wake. He dropped, still spinning and Blades dipped after him, rotary blades thudding. Suddenly the bird mech snapped his massive wings open and he rose sharply until he was just above the Autobot's rotary assembly, the scientists hanging literally a foot above the spinning blades.

The one in his right claw screamed in honest terror, fingers scrambling along the smoothly feathered leg as he tried to pull himself up away from the whirling blades. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" the three words became a litany spilling from his mouth threaded through his shrill screams.

In contrast, the scientist in his left claw shut his eyes and gripped the feathered belly behind his head, wrapping his fingers in a white-knuckled grip in the slips of metal. "You'll pay for this," he screamed up at the phoenix. As Blades dipped even lower to reduce the risk for the scientists, the second one released his grip to hang limply in the large claw. "You won't get away with it!"

A bright blue optic jerked sideways to regard him and the phoenix spun tightly once more, causing both to scream. "Firebird, get back here!" Blades rose behind the phoenix, but it didn't seem to be interested in running. He turned idly to the screams of his passengers before spiraling lower and lower. Five feet above the ground he beat his wings hard in a few-second hover and dropped his load. A second later he landed, placing a talon on the scientist that had been held in his left claw.

Jumper trotted over, opening his jaws. The second scientist shrank back but quick as a flash Jumper's fangs gripped the back of his lab coat, lifting him almost gently. Carefully he walked over to the Autobots, placing the human down a few lengths away. As he turned and trotted back to his brother, Firebird transformed. He lifted the other scientist roughly, gripping him tightly with his long fingers terminating in curved claws.

"You stand there, Autobots, staring at us with judging optics," he said, holding the scientist up. "You automatically assume that the humans were innocent. But are they? If they were, what reason would Jumper and I have for attacking them?"

"What is he talking about?" Optimus rumbled, stepping forward to loom over the scientist in Firebird's claw.

"**WILL YOU TELL THEM, LITTLE HUMAN?"** the Autobots and humans turned to behold the massive form of a small-sized cruiser landed comfortably to their left, just out of range of the complex. The port-hole-like optics spun. **"HOW OUR **_**KARZENMALANK**_** WAS CAPTURED AIDING ONE OF YOUR SPECIES?"**

"Peril?" Optimus rumbled dangerously. "Captured?"

The massive optic, alone the size of a small child spun to focus on him. **"AYE. HAVE YOU NOT HEARD? OR DID YOUR HUMAN ALLIES NEGLECT TO INFORM YOU?"**

"We did nothing wrong!" the scientists clutched in Firebird's claws snapped, wriggling in his grasp.

"That you feel that you must justify your actions alone testifies to us of your guilt." Firebird commented to no one in particular.

Jumper transformed, bloody grin traded for one without the taint of death. His gold optics belied his anger. "Are you so quick to judge, to take advantage of courtesy and compassion in one so freakish in appearance? For doing you and a young human child a charity that was not required of her to do?" for once he spoke clearly, without choppy syntax or inflections.

Optimus rose up to his full height, but Firebird and Jumper were not intimidated as the scientist was. "Tell me everything. What is going on here?"

It was the ship – who they guessed was _Shadow Flash_ – that answered. **"TWAS NOT TWO WEEKS AGO WHEN OUR **_**KARZENMALANK**_** FOUND IN THE WILDERNESS A YOUNG CHILD, NOT YET FULLY GROWN."** The massive engines whirled in a growl. **"HUMAN SOCIETY HAD GIVEN UP ON HER. LOST FOR HALF A DAY IN THE WILDERNESS DURING EARTH WINTER? IT WAS NIGH IMPOSSIBLE TO SURVIVE SO THE SEARCH TEAMS WERE NOT SENT OUT AND YOUNG LISA SOPHIE HAHNS HAD VERY LITTLE HOPE OF SURVIVAL."**

"I remember hearing about that," Optimus said, inclining his head. "She was found a week ago, wasn't she?"

"That is not the whole story," Jumper replied. He crouched down, drawing random designs in the dirt with his claw. "_Karzenmalank Avallakyilkansta Susavilyekarzen Zilka_ found her one day, and she traveled with us as we traveled back to civilization. Upon returning, _Karzenmalank Avallakyilkansta Susavilyekarzen Zilka_ took her to the nearest outpost was captured at once and taken to place beyond our reach."

"You have no proof that it was these scientists that took Peril," Hound said.

Firebird turned his harsh gaze to the tracker. "You know not of what you speak of. Jumper is the best tracker there is. His nose and skills would not fail him. I have the sharpest optics amongst us and my skills as a scout has never failed. In the time you have known us do you not know the way we work?"

Hound lowered his head, soundly chastened. Indeed, the Kalinmas were known for their analytical ways, choosing to understand what was going on before taking action. Especially Firebird, who was more opposed to the acts of warriors than his brother Jumper was. "What brought you here?"

Jumper's head turned quickly at that. "I followed the scent for days. Firebird flew without rest for days without rest. _Idvikan Shadow Flash_ scoured the countryside during the nights to find any clues of their passage. The only clue we had was the direction and soon even that trail went dead." He clenched his claw, drawing a deep groove through his neat swirls. "It was Firebird who remembered that _Karzenmalank Avallakyilkansta Susavilyekarzen Zilka_ was taken by scientists and guards."

"And you automatically suspected us?" the scientist in Firebird's claw yelled, struggling for a second before falling silent under the phoenix's fierce gaze. "We're a peaceful…" whatever he was about to say in that moment when he was lost for words was swallowed when he threw his head back and screamed as smoke drifted lazily from the places where his coat and skin contacted with Firebird's hand.

"**WE ASKED FRIENDS OF THE AUTOBOTS FIRST."** Shadow Flash said. **"NICELY. LET IT NOT BE SAID THAT WE DO NOT KNOW THE VALUE OF MANNERS."** She added acerbically. **"THEY DID NOT KNOW, BUT THEY TOLD US OF PLACES IN THE AREA THAT STUDY CYBERTRONIAN TECHNOLOGY. THERE WERE ONLY TWO. WE VISITED THEM AND ASKED. AGAIN, NICELY."**

"The scents did not match," Jumper continued. "Nor did they have enough force to take even us down, much less _Karzenmalank Avallakyilkansta Susavilyekarzen Zilka_." He threaded his claws through his matted fur, grimacing when the ivory claws came back covered in his purple fluid. He scratched at a tiny hole in his shoulder, pulling out a bullet and inspecting it before flicking it away with a disdainful frown. "We asked them where they would keep something very large – an artifact from Cybertron that had as much Cybertronian technology as any one of you Autobots. They said that they would send it here to be analyzed then sent to the right place for safekeeping and further study." He pulled out another bullet, this time from his chest and rolled it between his fingers thoughtfully.

"**WE CAME HERE TO ASK NICELY ONCE MORE, BUT WERE ATTACKED. ASK ANY OF THESE PEOPLE. THEY ARE NOT BLIND: THEY KNOW THAT I CAN DESTROY THEM AND THEIR COMPLEX IN A SINGLE SWEEP YET I HAVE ABSTAINED."** The massive optic-windows spun and the engines of the ship gave another low rumble. **"WILL WE REMAIN GAWKING HERE LIKE **_**HERDAVRA**_** OR WILL WE TAKE ACTION?"**

Firebird turned his harsh gaze back to the scientist. "You heard her," he said coldly. "The burning shall cease, but only if you speak to us the truth."

The scientist spat, slamming his hands on the grey metal of Firebird's hand. "We know nothing!" he insisted.

Jumper growled. "You lie."

Darts of flame glittered along Firebird's shoulders, and in the back of his cortex, Wheeljack was awed that the phoenix was able to control the speed and presence of the flames. "I will warn you only once. Lie to me and I will make you feel pain. You will burn." He paused slightly then continued. "Where. Is. Our. Captain?"

"I don't know!" the scientist shouted.

The cyberwolf remained crouched. He snorted, tail arcing across the dirt. "Lie." He said after taking a deep breath.

The flames leapt forward a few feet along Firebird's arm, orange bordering on white. "Stop." Optimus commanded, taking a step forward. The dirt between him and Firebird exploded and he jumped back in surprise, protecting the exposed part of his face with his hand as small rocks clattered along his armor.

Jumper was on his feet, back in his cyberwolf form, fur bristled and fangs bared. The human blood was dried, turning his ash-gray fur a gritty russet. Firebird was unfazed, casually brushing off bits of grit from his shoulders and shaking out the dust from his wings. **"I OWE MY LIFE TO MY **_**KARZENMALANK**_**. I ALSO HAVE NO QUALMS ABOUT SHOOTING YOU WHERE YOU STAND."** Shadow Flash said and they turned, finding a massive cannon aimed at them. **"I MUST ADD THAT MY AIM IS PERFECT. DO NOT TEST ME."**

Firebird glanced down at the scientist, whose eyes were wide. "We care about our _Karzenmalank_. We will not fail in this." the flames trickled closer to the scientist and he shifted, obviously uncomfortable in the hot hand. "She had faith in us when no one else would. She taught us the value in ourselves and brought us together as a Pack when no one else would. We will not lose her like this."

The ground exploded once more, preventing the Autobots from moving forward. The flames leapt forward again, nearly in reach of the scientist whose skin was sweating and turning red from the lack of distance. He struggled and kicked in Firebird's hand, eyes wide and fearful as he bucked against the metal bands around him. "I don't know!" he cried.

Jumper growled. "_Xarnvinmaexstivallest_." _That is a lie._ Wheeljack shivered when the cyberwolf proclaimed that fact, keeping the translation to himself for the moment. Some part of him was insanely happy that he could remember the meaning of the word, but it was quickly squashed by the horror of what Firebird was doing.

The flames stayed where they were but obviously the heat traveled over for he began screaming and thrashing and smoke rose lazily from where his body contacted Firebird's hand. All of a sudden the fires disappeared but the man's screaming did not. He sobbed in pain as Firebird turned his head toward the knot of Autobots showered in dirt and grit. "What did you say?" he asked calmly, optics fierce.

The scientist he was looking at gripped the back of Ratchet's heel, hiding herself behind his leg like a scared child. "In Nevada. They're taking her to Nevada." She sobbed. "We didn't know! None of us did. We just heard about it recently, two days ago. We didn't know what it was, we just packed it, scanned it, and sent it off." She gripped Ratchet's leg tighter and sobbed, pressing her tear- and dirt-stained face to the red metal. "We're sorry. We didn't know."

Jumper gave a low _yoomph_. "_Sustailifex_." _Truth_.

Firebird regarded her for a long moment before placing the scientist in his hand down, revealing the dark, blistered skin where his fingers had rested. There was a roar, and they realized that it came from _Shadow Flash_; it was the deafening growl of her engines as they fired up. She glided above the ground, waves of heat washing over everyone nearby; the Kalinma brothers turned and trotted to her side, clambering up the access hatch that opened politely for them.

Porthole-optics spun. **"I CANNOT BELIEVE I AM ASKING THIS, BUT DO YOU WISH TO COME?"**

Optimus Prime glanced at his men. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, stay with Ratchet." The two frontliners' faces immediately dropped into incredulous stares. They weren't going along? "Everyone else, we'll go along."

Firebird's optics were flat, regarding them before turning and walking into the ship. When the Autobots boarded, they found that the brothers were nowhere to be seen; only the bloody footprints from Jumper's claws pointed in the direction that one or both of them had gone.

The plating beneath them shook slightly as the _Shadow Flash_ lifted off. Through the viewport the ground dropped as they rose higher and higher into the clouds. **"Firebird is tending to Jumper's wounds."** The console near them intoned. **"There are no seats, but you are welcome to come to the control room if you wish. It is to your right."**

There was an awkward pause as the blue skies of Earth were traded for the darkness of space. The _Shadow Flash_ went into orbit.

* * *

_Present day…_

The journals and stories cut off there. Slash, Barricade, and Skywarp knew nothing of Mother being captured, and everyone else I asked was reluctant to speak of it. Firebird and Jumper were evasive though the phoenix's face was dark and sad at the same time, and Ratchet and Wheeljack looked distinctly uncomfortable.

If I was anything remotely like my grandmother, I would've broken into their minds and dredged up the memory myself.

But I am not. My mind is forever closed to them unless they ask me to invade their mind and even them I'm reluctant. But the surface thoughts that I couldn't block spoke of deep reluctance and sadness. In Firebird I could tell that it hurt him badly, what he had done. As I suspected, though, he was remorseful for what he did, but didn't regret it because that was the way he was. He looked after those he cared about.

Fegali sensed my distress and looked over at me, blue-green optics bright with worry. "Are you all right?" he asked.

I closed my eyes and rubbed them, feeling tired and sad all of a sudden. "Yeah," I told him wearily, opening my eyes and offering him a soft smile.

My _idvixal_ didn't look convinced but let me go on it. He went back to the data-pad he was reading as Coby walked over with his tray. "Hey," he greeted, sitting down in front of me.

"Hey," I replied, offering him a small human smile as he began to eat. I watched him for a while, thinking. Honestly, I thought humans were a fascinating species. They had their odd quirks as every other race did, but they, like my own race, were new to me and I found myself watching the humans aboard whenever I could. Never mind I had met my first human nearly 15 years ago.

"Is something wrong, Narzenim?" he asked, noticing my thoughtful gaze.

I didn't mention the massacre in the story, or my own thoughts on his race but he never probed deeper than was polite. "No," I said. It was a partial lie at best. I could tell that Coby sensed it but decided not to comment. His mind and face told me that he'd accept the answer.

For a long moment we were all quiet save for the sound of Coby eating his burger. Fegali watched us both with an air of patience and fond amusement. "How is your writing coming along?"

We all looked down at my data-pad of an unfinished story. "I got lost." I told him honestly. Coby looked sympathetic.

"What happened?"

As I was about to tell him, I realized that we were alienating ourselves again. We were treating Mother's story like that – a story. A fable that one told to their younglings. I knew he didn't mean it, but the way Coby asked about what happened, it sounded like I had writer's block rather than little to no information to work from. My hearts sank into my liver. I drummed my claws on the table, allowing my gazes to drift. I found myself drifting in thought, unconsciously ignoring Coby as my foci wandered what was visible of the cafeteria from my angle.

"I don't know," I said at last, pulling my gazes in to center all of them on him. I stood up and excusing myself, left the cafeteria. I knew someone who could tell me what happened.

* * *

I adjusted my mask, making sure it sat well on my face. If it didn't, then the nitrogen mix would leak out and I'd be in deep shit as the humans said. But then again, I was never out long enough to suffocate. I shifted, checking the fit of my tank before pressing the airlock. I felt Amina's mild irritation through the brief moment of contact and I smiled before checking the tether cable again.

That done, I leapt out, feeling the comforting embrace of Zero-G. It was a jump I used to do often when Mother was alive when I wanted to be alone. But of course, I was never alone.

I sensed rather than saw the black ship beneath me, the only visible signs of its presence being the empty spot in my view of space in front of me. My boots contacted with the black metal of the _Shadow Flash_ and my knees bent, bringing my torso closer to the hatch handles.

The hatch hissed open and I pulled myself inside the comfortably-lit chamber. As nitrogen and argon (the gasses my kind was more accustomed to breathing) filtered into the chamber, I pulled off my gear and kicked with practiced ease to the inner hatch. It opened just as I reached it and I slipped into the hallway. Talking with Shadow Flash didn't require me to be on the bridge, but I felt that it was polite.

I found the captain's chair and gripped it to keep myself anchored. Ridiculously I felt like an Earth seahorse, having to grip something to keep from flowing away. **"Hello, Narzenim."**

I smiled. It had been a long time since I've been able to talk to Shadow. "Hello yourself." I replied.

Like Coby, Shadow Flash never questioned my motives and believed whatever I said if I felt like hiding something. It was rare, but it happened. True to her nature, she didn't ask why I had come to visit her and I felt almost awkward before shaking it off.

"Shadow, can you tell me a story?"

I felt the surprise ripple through her; because she didn't have a body that could make expressions, she allowed me to feel her emotions through whatever part of me touched her. **"A story?"** she repeated. A pause. **"About what?"**

I took a deep breath. I knew that the events of that day bothered her as much as it did everyone else, but I needed to know. "About the day Russet got captured." There was a period of long silence and I quickly filled the void, explaining what I knew. "Everyone else doesn't want to tell me anything more after you went into orbit. Getting them to tell me what happened up to then was like pulling teeth."

Unease rippled through the ship. **"Narzenim," **she said carefully. **"I must be very blunt with you. No one wants to remember what happened, but you already know this."** Shadow Flash was always very perceptive. **"I may not have been as involved as Firebird and Jumper were, but I still took part in it and I regret what I did. I killed an entire complex – destroyed it utterly and all that was left was a smoking crater. This is the one thing I will not tell you, Narzenim, because I myself wish to deny what happened."**

I felt guilty then and again my hearts sunk into my liver, my ears flattening in my guilt. "Sorry, Shadow."

But the ship wasn't done. **"I don't want to be the one to ask you this, but since no one else would… Is the reason you ask this because you want to know every facet of her life, or because you are fulfilling your natural curiosity?"** my ears flattened and I said nothing, looking away. **"Let it go, Narzenim," **she said gently. **"This isn't just any story, Narzenim. This is the **_**life**_** of Windtreader. Are there not points where she didn't elaborate on what happened?"** I immediately thought about Sky Dance, Prowl's paternal creator but said nothing and didn't mention it to Shadow Flash. **"There are certain secrets and actions in her life that she wished to forget. Allow them to be forgotten because that was what she wanted."**

Properly chastised, I nodded and took my leave of her.

* * *

Fegali was amused and I stuck my tongue out at him in our quarters as I uploaded my files from today's jaunt. The upload bar winked at me as I perused over the reports for the day. Keeping one foci trained on it and another trained on Fegali, I read over my reports and dutifully did the work I had temporarily neglected.

My _idvixal_ patted my hand when my thoughts began to turn dark. I offered him an empty smile and he gave me a look that clearly said he didn't buy it. "Am I overly curious?" I blurted, focusing all my foci save for one that watched the upload bar on him.

He wasn't surprised about the question. "You are very curious." He replied levelly. "I would not say overly so, but you are certainly curious."

My tail drooped. "Is it bad that I am?"

For a long moment Fegali regarded me and I spun most of my foci to watch the upload bar. "Too much curiosity is bad," he said at last. "You're more willing to stick your head into matters that don't concern you. But you, at least, know when to stop, Narzenim."

I almost told him what Shadow Flash had said, but I didn't have to. He already knew. He patted my hand again and opened his arms. I curled up in his embrace as I had when I was young and pressed my ear and the side of my head against his chest.

"She is right, though, I'm sorry to say." He said. "You're treating this as a story rather than a life. As a project rather than a painting."

Mother used to say that a lot. She liked to paint and when I was growing up, a lot of my memories were of her speckled with paint. She used to say that we should treat whatever we're working on like a painting: take your time and be patient on it, take it in small steps and never forget the significance of it or you'd lose the beauty of it.

The computer _ding_ed and I swung a foci to glance at it. The upload bar had reached the other end and the file was brought up on the computer. I reached out and scrolled down the document, highlighting the part of it about Russet's capture.

Without regret or hesitation, I pressed _delete_.

* * *

**Another reason it took me so long to get this up:** http: // www . youtube. com/ watch?v =pa 0-k wp D6zc

**The person who took this was the parent of someone in drumline so a lot of the time it's focused there, so you don't see the full band. I'm almost always on the opposite side of the drumline, so you won't see much of me.**


	26. Some Bonds are Just Too Strong to Break

**I don't own _My Friend_ by Plus One. Or Transformers. But you already know that.**

_**We are standing at the crossroads  
And now it's time  
For you to go your way  
And me to go mine  
I will pray the Lord  
Will keep you safe  
Until the day I see your face again**_

My friend  
We have been through so much  
And you have been my Godsend  
With your sure and steady love  
My friend  
You know I will be there  
If you ever need  
'Cause you've always  
Been a friend to me

I may travel the world over  
But one thing I know for sure  
One day this road will lead me  
Back 'round to your door  
I will pray the Lord  
Will keep you safe  
SOME BONDS ARE JUST TOO STRONG  
TO BREAK IN THE END

_

* * *

__Present day:_

I did some research and asking around. This time, people were willing to answer me. Lisa Sophie Hahns, born May 12, 1980 in Spokane, Washington, was saved by Mother when she was 13 years-old.

The story went that Lisa Sophie Hahns was hiking in the woods when she managed to wander off and get lost when her family was vacationing in Oregon. She found Jumper near a lake as the sun was setting and the air beginning to get cold. Jumper took her to Firebird who warmed her with his fires. When morning came and Russet returned from wherever she had gone, she gave the girl a ride on her broad back that took her back to civilization.

Lisa Sophie Hahns died at the age of 25 at the Battle of Autobot City in 2005. Russet had been giving her a tour there, when the base was attacked. She died helping the other humans to safety, hit by a stray piece of shrapnel. Wheeljack said that they died near each other, and that her death was instantaneous where his was not; the shrapnel pierced her body in a thousand places with one massive (by human and Xarmix standards) piece impaling her head before her body was bathed in fire. She was dead before the fire came.

I felt sorry for Lisa Sophie Hahns, dying so young, an unfortunate victim who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Firebird showed me a brief memory of her, all that he had and all I could get from anyone else.

She was pretty when she was young and beautiful when she was older, he had told me, a distant look in his optics. He only remembered her when she was around 20 or so, before he left in the _Shadow Flash_ to serve as a shuttle between Earth and Cybertron.

Lisa Sophie Hahns had soft, gold-brown hair and gentle blue eyes that reminded me of Autobot optics. Her skin was speckled with freckles and she looked so innocent in the brief memory I was given, the wind threading its breezy fingers through her hair as she stood in front of the _Shadow Flash_, shading her eyes with her hand. Firebird was flying high above, and she was watching him with such a fascinated look on her face that it took my breath away for a moment.

It hadn't seemed to matter to me, because I had what Firebird did; I had the ability to grow wings and leave behind the firm soil of the ground to rise into the clouds. It didn't occur to me the beauty in flight until I saw Lisa Sophie Hahn's face in the memory.

I immediately felt remorseful. How long ago was it that I was like that, watching Firebird with such an enraptured look on my face and such a longing, biting jealousy deep in my hearts? Now that I felt the joys of flight, I couldn't imagine life without it. Indeed, until now, I had forgotten about it entirely.

_Paintings change people,_ Mother used to say. She had always referred to life as a painting that you are continuously working on until the day you die. _You're ideas change as the days pass and what you prided yourself in doing the day before becomes the thing you hate about your painting. As you change, you forget what you painted until you take a step back and look at everything._

For the first time in a long time, I wondered what she thought of when she saw me, for my human form resembled young Lisa Sophie Hahns. I would never get the chance to ask her now that I knew.

And after reading her story – her _life_ – I wasn't sure if I could look at her with the same amount of awe and adoration as I used to. After seeing all the things she'd done…

I'd read an Earth book recently, _The Kite Runner_ by Khaled Hosseini. Is that how Mother felt? Like Baba trying to redeem himself for his past sins? Or like Amir who became an insomniac as his guilt began to eat away at him? Was that why she was always exuding an air of great sadness that never abated completely? Was I ever like Amir and she like Baba, that she felt me incompetent? That I had to prove myself to her?

No, I wasn't. I nearly hit myself for thinking so. The stinging pain made me pause and look down at my fists. I had alternated from clenching my fists hard enough to break the skin and dragging my claws deeply through my legs. The orangey blood dripped down my legs and from my palms.

Firebird looked distressed and picked me up gently, carrying me to the med-bay. I didn't voice my thoughts to him and felt sick to my stomach, but not in any physical way.

Was I Amir, that I was a coward? That I couldn't fight back no matter what happened? Was Fegali Hassan that was eternally devoted to me until I eventually betrayed him? Was Mother Baba who regretted much of his/her life as well as mine, Amina Rahim Khan who supported me in everything I did when Mother didn't?

Ratchet looked up when we walked in and frowned deeply. "What did you do?" he demanded as Firebird placed me on the med-berth. He came over and inspected my wounds.

I reached out and touched his hand, smearing a bit of orange blood on the red hand but neither of us cared at the moment. When my thought transference was through, he growled.

"I may not know her full motives, but I knew that she loved you very much. Yes, she may have been a bit like this 'Baba' character, regretting her past sins, but don't you ever think that she was ashamed of you." He snarled. Gently he stroked my cheek. "You were her child as much as Prowl is. As much as Firebird, Jumper, and Bluestreak are."

I hung my head, my bangs obscuring my large eyes as Ratchet cleaned the wounds in my palms and thighs. Firebird watched, transforming and hopping on the berth to twine his crest around my waist in a comforting gesture. It seemed that recently I've been making a fool of myself and I just wanted to cry. As if sensing this, Firebird's crest twisted tighter around my waist in warning or comfort I wasn't sure.

Mother always said that grief could tear you apart. As with many other things, she was right.

* * *

_11 years later:  
__Earth Time: 2005 A.D._

It was, in short, the worst battle in the history of the Great War. There were so many that died in the upper echelons of both sides that it was a miracle (or at least unbelievable) that the war didn't stop completely.

But with great death comes great grief and many of the Autobots were left to pick up the pieces of their city and dig through the smoking wreckage for the bodies of their dead friends. Half the time one didn't know if anyone was dead or alive.

Bondmates and friends were lost in the battle, and old enemies were vanquished. The world seemed to change after such a bloody massacre. For many years afterward, the Battle of Autobot City would be said with an air of awed regret for it killed many of the older soldiers and left the younger ones with few mentors to help them pick up the pieces.

Among the dead on the Autobot side were Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots; Ratchet, Autobot Chief Medical Officer; Prowl, Autobot Second-in-Command and tactician; Wheeljack, Autobot Chief Engineer; Ironhide, Security; Windcharger; Huffer; and Brawn. The casualties among the Decepticon ranks were noticeably less, but the loss of a life was still important: Megatron, leader of the Decepticons; Insecticons Shrapnel and Kickback; Windslasher, twin sister of Russet; and Decepticon Seekers Skywarp and Thundercracker.

Death was a very near thing when you're at war: it hovers just beyond your peripherals, just barely beyond your vision but you _know_ it's there, waiting, watching. It's very easy to delude yourself into thinking that the next mech to be sent off in a funeral ship wouldn't be you, especially when you've survived millions upon millions of years of the war.

For the first time, he knew what Russet felt when she believed that they were dead. That empty, hollow feeling of shock rippling through his body. He transformed and raced away from the wreckage of the city and went in search of her.

* * *

He found Russet at the top of a hill a few miles away from the city, her back to the wreckage and face tilted upward to gaze at the moon. Her spine-spikes rippled when he approached but she didn't turn from gazing at the moon.

"Russ?" he asked softly, sitting beside her.

She turned her pale optics on him. She didn't seem to recognize him, or at least not see him. "I can't feel anything anymore, Jazz." She said quietly. "Everyone's gone."

Jazz leaned against her broad shoulder. It hurt enough for him; he couldn't imagine how much more it hurt for her. She lost her bondmate, the child she helped to raise, her twin sister, and two of her good friends. All _he_ lost was his bondmate. "There's just us left, eh?" he asked weakly.

"Ratchet's gone," she mumbled. "Prowl's gone, Orion's gone, Gold's gone, Jack's gone, 'Hide's gone."

He leaned forward slightly and inspected her. Though caked with dried fluids she was mostly uninjured save for a few shallow slices along her sides and one across the optic of her Pit-Dragon head. She seemed more in shock than anything, and it took a while to register her words. "Orion?" he pressed gently.

"My brother," she muttered. Her head lowered. "He changed his name." Jazz shook his head. Sometimes he just couldn't figure her out.

As he now knew, the death of a bondmate didn't spell death for the other; they felt the sundering of their sparks and the urge to follow their mate into the AllSpark. But they didn't die. In a way, death would be much easier than the torture the two were going through. "Sometimes I hate those 'Cons. Dirty." Great. Now he was starting to sound like her.

Russet said nothing. "Just want to curl up and die," she mumbled, optic shutters sliding slowly shut.

"C'mon, Russ," Jazz said, nudging her with an elbow to rouse her. It could be dangerous for her to slip into unconsciousness. "It's just you and me again. Just like before."

"Not singing," she said weakly, as if it didn't matter either way. "And everyone's dead."

He nudged her again. "C'mon, cheer up."

Russet turned and gave him a look. He winced at his word choice. "I'm tired of fighting," she said, dropping her head again though her gaze was still trained on him.

"Then let's leave. Lets quit the Autobots and go somewhere else." He suggested, gripping her arm, or as much of it as he could reach.

She lifted her head and gazed at the moon once more. A dark cloud began to grow as the moon was blocked by the sudden onslaught of rain. When Russet looked down again, Jazz could tell that she had retreated into herself, and that he was now speaking with Peril, or Ranthanoss, or whatever he decided to call himself now.

"We just want to forget," he/she said. "Forget the Autobots. Forget Lisa Sophie Hahns, forget our brother, our bondmate, our son, our friends who died."

Jazz stored that bit of information away and didn't comment on it. "Then let's go."

Peril blinked slowly. "Jumper and Firebird are returning." He/she said. They turned toward the jagged points of mountains rising toward the moon. "They'll be here by morning."

"Let's leave with them, then." Jazz said. "Leave the Autobots behind."

There was a long pause as the feral mech blinked again. Jazz was absurdly reminded of a lioness in the grass, full of hidden danger though she winked her eyes and yawned lazily. "We'd like that," he mumbled. "Let's go."


End file.
